


Without Temptation

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: CREEK ok, College, High School, I hate tags, M/M, Multi, Sex, creek - Freeform, fuvking CRREK, japan picks who they pick and that’s that, “boyzu rabu”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The kids are grown up! Kinda! Mostly because I cannot, with dignity, write about fourth graders with any actualized in love feelings and actions from my adult perspective! I would go to hell! Not chill!Pretty much follows the same personalities and commentary for South Park, our favorite (not so) quiet little town in Colorado. Craig and the other guys are Juniors, as well as our boys (Stan, Kenny, Kyle and Cartman). I love South Park, and will have the softest part of my heart for this fandom. So now that there's been a Whole Foods for a while, why not make our favorite town a little bit ... more provocative?!Again, everything remains unchanged for storyline, except for an age difference between Tweek and Butters versus everyone else. This is an emphasis on Tweek and Craig with some super minor (major) Kenny and Butters, and MAYBE some Style. Fuck it, I know what the people want. Essentially, Craig and Tweek have had a really special relationship from day one, and it gets actualized through South Park High School and all of its hot, burning, hormone infested hijinks. Love for my boys. Sorry to Matt and Trey.Here to Creek. Enjoy!
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 49
Kudos: 115





	1. 001

**Author's Note:**

> Genuinely, I am awful with ratings. I’d say it’s teen friendly until maybe the 15th chapter, but I plan go at it a bit deeper (in all kinds of ways). So down the line, maybe I’ll change it to explicit? I dunno man, I’m not good with this stuff. But me, write pwp? Never ... haha jk! Unless ... 😳

He drummed his slender fingers on the steering wheel, eyes straight ahead at the two doors. It was mid-November and the snow had already powdered the high school’s rooftop, long icicles hanging from the roof’s edge. 

If he remembered, he’d have to remind Stan or Kyle to tell Kenny not to walk too slowly out of school, since they had las period together. That motherfucker’s so accident-prone, Craig can only imagine. Then he imagines, or at least tries to imagine, Kenny walking out of school to his car safely. That kid practically shoots out of the building by last period. 

He adjusted the thermostat in his car and glances down at the time; 12:30. Why his guidance counselor scheduled him for a 9 am calculus class, then a free period and lunch, he had no idea. But it did give him enough time to pick up a small brown bag and a warm thermos for himself — and someone else. 

Craig snapped his head up quickly as his phone vibrated, almost slamming his head on the roof of his Nissan. He hadn’t quite grown into his growth spurt, but his growth spurt surely grew on all the other guys in school — mostly watching his gait with a jealous and hopeful stare through the hallways. 

He was six foot 2 and even height to Token, though Kyle swore up and down at their drunk hangouts at Starks Pond he’d be beating them by a mile in no time. “Dare to dream,” Cartman would slur back, and before he’d find himself watching the two fight like they had since, well ... forever. 

Before he had time to answer the demanding buzz, he saw him, messy blonde hair shining as the sun reflected off of the snow. His olive green jacket wasn’t zipped, and Craig watched carefully as Tweek, still very much a Freshman and very much not hitting a growth spurt, walked anxiously towards his car, calling Craig; blue eyes scanning for Craig’s grey Nissan. 

He rolled down the window. “Over here, ya baby!” he yelled flatly, causing other Freshman to startle themselves. He almost laughed before endearingly yelling, “Zip up that jacket, kid!”, and watched with elatation masked by bemusement as Tweek nearly dropped his binder to fiddle with his zipper. 

“Don’t call me kid, fucker!”

“Don’t call me fucker, kid.”

Craig’s door shut and the wide-eyed blonde made grabbing hands for the thermos. “So, how was French,” Craig said flatly, handing Tweek his morning coffee with a shot of espresso. Tweek ignored the comment and started taking eager sips from the thermos, engraved with his name — a gift from Craig from last year’s secret santa. Craig knew he hated French. Tweek just stuck his stung out in disgust.

“Learn anything about how they kiss over there?” he deadpanned, eyes locked on Tweek’s as he stuck his tongue back out at him, for effect. Tweek choked on his coffee mid sip, pretty blues nearly bulging out from his head. Craig patted him easily on the back before laughing. 

“Calm down, Tweek,” Craig said, watching the heat flush from his neck and up to his cheeks, a pretty contrast to his fragile pale skin under a grey, waffle cotton thermal. Tweek shook his head before mumbling a small “Thanks”. 

It wasn’t small or surprising news that this back and forth of flirting between the two had been happening for a long time. Probably too long for Craig’s liking, and yet the obvious was sometimes missed on Tweek, caught up in his own anxiety, most likely. 

But Craig realized not having Tweek in high school after eighth grade graduation took the balance of his life away. Maybe he liked the excitement of his younger counterpart, filling up his few fucks to give attitude. Otherwise, at times it simply felt a little bland, like so much in that town.

He shook the thoughts from his head before handing him over a neatly packaged muffin. “Fuck, I was starving; thanks, Craig,” Tweek said happily, warm air circulating through Craig’s car. “And French sucks. I’m just glad it’s Friday. I’ve been seriously stressing out.”

“Me too, dude. The Friday part, not the stress,” Craig watched carefully as Tweek visibly relaxed in the confines of his car, coffee in hand and muffin sitting graciously on the dashboard. “You’re coming to Cartman’s house tonight, right?”

He almost regretted asking, but per usual, kept it cool. Tweek looked visibly shaken again, glancing over at Craig. He had been doing that a lot lately, eyes flickering nervously towards Craig and then over at literally anything else. “That’s an upperclassmen party,” Tweek said, voice almost even. “Sophomore and under must stay under,” he added, mimicking Cartman’s dictatorial voice with surprising grace.

“Butters is gonna be there,” Craig said easily, stealing a bite of Tweek’s breakfast. “And besides, Cartman’s not going to say shit if I’m taking you,” he finished, knowing full-well Cartman would, but it would never reach Tweek’s ears. Even if Cartman buffed out and went super jock on the guys, he was still the same kid inside. And he respected Craig’s authority on the simple fact that Craig was Craig. And that Cartman had sent Craig a dick pic in a group Snapchat, meant for only Bebe, who was the quarterback, Clyde’s, girlfriend. 

The blonde bit his lower lip, before nodding slowly. “I’ll pick you up, don’t worry. You won’t have to use your bike,” Craig soothed, already knowing through whatever telepathic mind connection bullshit they had that Tweek hated biking at night. Not that Craig would ever let him, anyways. 

Tweek slowly nodded, his eyes again reaching his. Craig couldn’t stop looking, even when his Freshman looked down. He wondered how Tweek got such long lashes falling over the tired hollows of his eyes — probably got them his mom. And he was very clearly a male, he wasn’t discounting that. But even when his high pitched elementary school squeals turned into a light soprano of fear, Craig found, and had always found him to be, well ... pretty. 

“Pick you up at 9?” Craig pressed on, taking a sip of his drink. Tweek smiled into his bite of muffin. “Sure, Craig.”

Minutes feel like seconds during this free period, as the topic switched over to sneaking beer or buying it off of Scott, their local community college hookup for alcohol and other things — sweet, green and non-medicinal. Craig’s laugh came easy, Tweek in peals of bell-like laughter as they exchanged in banter on the risks and rewards of raiding their parents booze or shelling out the extra ten for Scott. 

“Ah, shit, Algebra,” Tweek said, looking down at his phone for the time. “Fuck,” he added in, as if the first curse didn’t have enough emphasis. Craig turned off the car and grabbed his History textbook and two pens, knowing how famously forgetful Tweek could be. If there was a superlative for “Most Likely to Forget”, Tweek would be in first place. Craig wondered what he would be placed as. 

They both hopped out of the car with thermoses in hand, and headed to their respective classes. It was that little 45 minute period where Craig felt soft, and it was a welcome feeling. 

“‘Sup girlies, love the monogrammed tea cups!” Cartmen oozed as they walked in, following Craig as they split off to history together. Tweek nervously gave a faltering smile and a half wave, before heading towards the opposite end of the hallway. 

As soon as Tweek was out of earshot, Cartman gushed on. “Just so you know, if you bring your girlfriend, you’re buying vodka off of Scott. Maybe you two lovebirds can get, like, matching wrist tattoos from him, too — I heard he does amazing stick and pokes. Speaking of stick and pokes, have you guys —“

“Whatever you’re saying, Cartman, shut the fuck up!” Kyle yelled from the end of the hall. “We have a test in two minutes and some people don’t have sports scholarships.” 

“Don’t worry Kyle, I’m sure your parents have been Jewing away money for your college fund since before you were born,” Cartman yelled back, agitated. Craig heard him mumbling about forgetting his Blue Book. 

“At least my parents banked on me even going to college, asshole!”

Yeah, those were Craig’s sacred 45 minutes alright.


	2. 002

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party in the flippity floopity flop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to upload daily to increase braincells may be a failing mission but I really need a few extra. I didn't edit but I will beta in the AM. Enjoy!

When it comes to the topic of Tweek, Craig could write an encyclopedia, not a wikipedia. He knew what would make him nervous before he had the opportunity to be nervous. It was simple, easy, and so complex. Craig laid on the bed in a soft white tee and mascot high school sweatpants. He played Varsity track in the spring, partly to go fuck off with his friends and get Stan just a touch pissed off when he outran him in long distance, and the other part was obvious. 

The other side of the track was where JV met, and however obvious it had become, he to them was on his friends’ sides; to see the girls in shorts do pole vaults, and to see Butters and the rest of the gangly lower class guys get signed on to shot put — all to watch them struggle to throw a ball. But more apparent to him was Tweek, who always was on the corner, getting trained. Something about it made him stir; he had just turned 15 over the summer and lost a touch of his baby fat (minus his cheeks, which were scarlet in the sun), and he wore mid calf athletic socks with two stripes and his ragged Reebok lowtop running sneakers, a quickly fading tan running up the rest of his smooth thighs, climbing to his grey Cow’s JV running shorts. 

Tweek was a great runner. He was so used to chasing after the guys in the heat, and Craig wished he spent some of that time doing some figural chasing of him. But to see their coach roll up Tweek’s sleeve, to see him haul ass towards the goal, to beam with pride alone while the girls’ JV ran laps and the rest of the guys in lower class struggle to essentially throw and jump. 

Craig liked seeing him guzzle down thin paper cups from a water cooler, and to gently set them into the can — while all the others would crumble the paper and let it bounce carelessly off of the rim. It wasn’t as if not littering was a hot or unique quality or anything, but Craig constantly noticed that. 

Little gifts of serene in his otherwise nervous character, the moments of pride, his face beaming up at his coach. The bashful and bright happiness when he won, and the humble acceptance of praise. And there’s never any real winner team in South Park, so on losing games away, Craig would sit in the front and console him. No, he wasn’t going to win an award that season. No, he definitely should not go for football. And yes, without hesitation, Tweek was the best.

Craig snapped out of his sweet track memories of Tweek’s body all lithe and shimmering, to keep track of time. It was 8:45 pm and Craig never wanted to be late, to make sure Tweek knew he hadn’t gone— and he never missed watching Tweek pull a Rapunzel sneaking out of his house to go hang out, at Cartman’s of all places. 

The Titos large plastic jar of clear vodka and 24 Rolling Rocks looked like boulders in his old gym bag. He quickly got up and changed into jeans and his granddad’s old Alpha Industries navy blue bomber, with an eighth hidden in a ziplock in his hidden shoulder pocket. 

“I’m out,” he called down the hall, towards his parents bedroom. He got a grunt about not driving drunk, and a somewhat nervous “I love you,” from his mom, followed by a more stern sound about curfew. He didn’t hesitate to remind them curfew didn’t exist on the weekends, and practically hopped off of the landing to get to his garage. 

He grabbed a few RxBars from his dad’s minicooler in the garage workroom, where he usually liked to keep unfinished ship in bottles order kits scattered on the counter. The day he finished one, Craig swore he’d buy his dad a ticket to a Carnival Cruise. Never gonna happen. 

In five minutes, seven if he obeyed traffic in the dead of night in South Park, he was at Tweek’s. He slowed down and turned off the engine, looking in his back mirror as Tweek shimmied down the haphazard, handmade ladder he made in shop class, then hooking it safely on the side of a hook installed by the side of his house. Craig’s heart jostled in his ribcage as he saw that self sufficient glow on his face. 

Tweek had on an Carhart jacket and a hoodie that almost enveloped his small frame, ripped jeans in one knee from a biking accident making him look almost waifey. He nimbly trekked along the bushes to the shoveled area of his house to avoid making steps in the snow, but as soon as his vans hit the highway, he was sprinting to Craig’s car. His eyes were pricked with tears from the cold as he slid in for the safety of the passengers’ seat. 

“I have $10 to cover for you ...” Tweek started shyly, reaching for his jacket pocket. Craig shook his head and nudged his head towards the back. “I got it, don’t worry. Watching you not get run over is payment enough.”

“Ran over? You’d yell if there were cars, right, Craig?” Tweek’s voice came out nervously. Craig gave him a wicked smile before turning on the engine, his car already feeling cool after ten minutes off. 

“No way. I can’t be the one to bring you home with a hit and run after helping you sneak out past your 10 pm curfew.”

“Craig!”

“Relax,” he said, embracing the soft push of Tweek’s chastising hands. “And here, roll one up for us before we get to Cartman. I can’t stand you standing Heidi and him drunk.”

He tossed over the weed and Tweek smiled excitedly, then obediently opened Craig’s glove compartment, pulling out a clipboard and a grinder. Tweek got to work with a Raw filter and a paper, easily making quick work with his fingers. Craig glanced over at him while he gingerly finished off the job, licking the joint (that Craig really wished was a spliff), and then checking for his pockets for his favorite metal lighter. 

A few sacred moments of riding around town, the two of them handing in the joint back and forth, Tweek at first swearing up and down he knew a cop would get them around the corner, then listening intently to Craig’s latest story about seeing Kenny tutoring Butters from next door. 

“They really get along,” Tweek said a touch too carefully, eyes a little low and awfully soft. “I ... like that.”

“I like it, too,” Craig said, doing their last loop before Cartman’s. They made a moment’s eye contact before dropping it, pulling in to what looked like a pretty started party for 9:30 pm on a Saturday. But since Cartman’s mom had started an insurance agency job, she was out a lot, so strangely enough Cartman’s house became the perfectly convenient place to have people over. 

Token’s place had a monitoring system, Clyde’s house was an obvious no, Stan’s dad always tried to drink with them, Kenny’s parents were always too drunk, Craig didn’t want anyone over, and Kyle’s brother would want a five dollar entry fee and then a double cross to their protective mom, Sheila. Craig actually really liked Ike, but if he kept up the No Narc Policy, they’d all be broke by summer. And that meant no savings for their mountains trip they were already planning for March. 

“Do I look okay?” Tweek asked, trying to lay down his constant state of bedhead. “Why, got someone to impress?” Craig questioned back, surprised by the almost sharp edge in his voice. He remembered his expertise in conclusionary thinking again; Freshman at an upperclassmen party. He was worried about Cartman. 

“You look great, don’t worry,” he said, voice mild again. In his light buzz of stoned, Tweek looked ethereal. He reached into his bag and unsealed the vodka. He poured a careful capful and handed it to Tweek, knowing he was fairly lightweight. The blonde took it like a champion, only sputtering half of a dozen times -- completely unaware that he wasn’t great with alcohol to begin with. Put Craig knew, had studied with glassy and clear eyes from close and far away. “You look great,” Craig said again, almost to no one, then took a swig himself. 

“You feeling ready, Tweek?”

“Well, only whenever you are, Craig.”

Both car doors slammed in sync.


	3. 003

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 truths, one lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!

The party was already in moderate swing by the time they walked in. Moderate being Stan not being totally plastered and begging the constant designated driver, Kyle, for a ride home. 

“Hey Queermos,” Cartman slurred, with his on again, off again girlfriend, Heidi, trailing sullenly begind him. “Craig, the alcohol, if you please,” he continued, looking evenly up at Craig. He rolled his eyes and tossed over the gym bag, which thudded sofly on Cartman’s surprisingly brawny chest. Cartman gave a sickly sweet smile at Tweek before adding, “You guys — Tucker — can throw your hat and jackets upstairs in my mom’s room, just don’t stink up the house or whatever. Last time she caught us smoking got Butters grounded for a month.”

Cartman headed towards the table (where Craig noticed a lot of people had been coaxed into buying drinks), and Heidi grabbed three beers, handing two of them to the boys. “Speaking of Butters, look at him and Kenny,” Craig and Tweek’s heads both snapped over in synchronicity as they watched the two on the couch, Kenny’s unkempt hair pushed back affectionately by Butters, who looked like he was nursing Kenny’s nosebleed. “I think they’re, like, so close because they both have parents that beat on them.”

“Dude, not cool!” Stan yelled, Kyle looking equally resigned and annoyed by Cartman alteady. Kyle’s face nearly matched his hair color. One day that kid was gonna hand Cartman’s ass to jail. Cartman rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “There’s a few guys downstairs playing pong,” he said airily, in lieu of an apology. 

Craig took a swig of beer and pulled gently at Tweek by his jacket pocket, leading him upstairs. They shrugged off their jackets, and Craig took his hat off, both opting to hang them up instead of throwing them in the pile — for easy escape, of course. Bebe and Wendy were both in the bathroom, Bebe making soft retching sounds while Wendy huffed out quiet encouragements. They quickly headed back out. 

“Agh, hey, um ... Craig?” Tweek stopped him in the hall before they went down. He leaned against the wall, one hand playing with the ends of his hoodie. “I’m sorry, it’s just— do you think it’s really okay for me to be here? I feel stupid, I just ... Cartman always has it out for people and I -“

Craig took Tweek’s hand off of his hoodie and put both of his arms at his sides by his wrists, feeling his pulse go from fast to fastest. “And you are here with me, which means nobody’s going to have it out for you. These are your friends, Tweek. Nobody forgot about you. You’re ... hard to forget.” Tweek’s already pink face flushed harder. His pulse stayed at furiously quick, beer bottle tapping against the wall. That same stir came in the pit of his stomach, and Craig looked away, then into his eyes. 

“Tweek, I —“

“What are you two doing?” Clyde’s voice suddenly made Craig release Tweek, quickly grabbing for his beer. Clyde shook his head, then asked, “Where’s Bebe? Everyone’s downstairs, anyways.”

They both motioned for the bathroom, and Clyde pushed past them, already drunkenly emotional. “Tweek, stop hitting the coffee so hard. You’re gonna be short forever,” Clyde said brazenly, before heading towards Mrs. Cartman’s bathroom. He gave Tweek a once over before adding, “Or don’t. It’s kinda cute.”

“Your girlfriend is puking,” Craig said, calmly and easily. That familiar stir. “Also, Cartman has been sending her dick pics.” And with that, before Clyde could answer, Craig turned on his heel, Tweek in hot pursuit. 

“Holy shit fuck, how long did you know that? Clyde’s gonna fuck Cartman up! And were you gonna say something? Holy fucking shit, why did you do that? Fuck! Shit, fuck, and ...” Tweek’s explitives fell on semi-deaf ears. Why couldn’t Craig keep control of his feelings, lately? And why were they always there?

“Not our problem. Favor for Kyle, anyways. And uh, I was gonna tell you the same thing Clyde said.”

They got downstairs and Red was pouring shots, everyone in a circle. “No more pong?” Craig said, fitting Tweek and him in the circle, between Jimmy Valmer and Stan, who looked glassy eyed and was swaying slightly. Tweek looked worried, probably about getting puked on. He didn’t want to be another victim to Stan’s sensitive stomach like Wendy. 

“Nah, it looks like these idiots can’t get a ping pong into anywhere but up their asses,” Red said casually, putting a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she poured out two shots for them. “Besides, we’re doing two truths and a lie, since someone forgot to bring cards,” she finished, looking pointedly at Nicole, who was looking lovesickeningly at Token. 

“That’s lame,” Clyde said, wedging himself between Cartman and pulling a hazy looking Bebe to his side. Clyde’s ears were red, and Craig almost felt bad. Just for a moment though. “We all know everything about each other — let’s do other people’s two truths and a lie. Whoever loses in the circle has to take a shot.” 

Everyone nodded their head, nonplussed by Clyde’s emotionalism. “I’ll start,” Craig said, pouring a shot for himself and water for Bebe. “Cartman is still a chunkster and binge eats at Dairy Queen, Cartman sends nudes to Bebe because he’s a backstabber, Cartman wants to fuck Kyle because he’s told me he’s secretly had some gay fantasies.” 

Cartman looked menacingly at the table as everyone around guessed he was secretly gay — including Craig and Tweek. Clyde hummed a smile and said, “Not to my knowledge. Everyone take a shot.”

“Not fair,” Wendy said, though she took the shot anyways. “We need proof!”

Clyde smiled as Bebe grabbed her phone, pulling out two screenshots. One was of Cartman with three sundaes and the caption, “Wish u were here Baebe”, along with his dick, which Bebe had mercifully X’d out with a pig sticker. Cartman looked infuriated. 

“Well, you’re not in my fucking mind Clyde and all of you idiots, so take a shot yourself. You can’t disprove a fantasy, r-tard,” Cartman was met with a slew of boos, and a few whispers about how small the cow sticker was. His logic was on the money, so they all took a self-satisfied shot. Except Kyle, who took a swig of beer, looking at Bebe with silent praise. He loved watching Cartman fall to his own demise. 

“You’re next, fatass,” Kyle said primly, looking smug. Craig felt his wrists go icy, and kept a cool eye on the alcohol in front of them. 

“You’re so right, Kyle! I am next,” Cartman oggled at him, while Kyle looked away in disgust. “I’ll do Craig!” he continued, and Craig could feel all eyes turning on him. He remained concentrated on the cap of Tito’s vodka. 

“We all know everything about Craig, dude,” Token started, but Cartman silenced him. Tweek looked up at Craig, then as if for the same telepathic energy Craig had for him, he defensively added to Token. “Whatever Craig’s truths are will be great. Cartman’s bluffing anyways.”

“So good of you to say, Tweek, standing up for Craig’s boy-toy like that. Give them both a round of applause,” Cartman said, edge in his voice. Craig knew his advantage was gone, even if Clyde was going to beat Cartman’s ass later. “Craig hooked up with that kid with Tourettes from Denver last summer, Craig overfed his guinea pig and that’s why it died, and Craig has liked Tweek since fourth grade.”

Everyone at the table looked confused, especially Tweek. 

“Craig killed his guinea pig is not the lie, buttmunch. Who would drive all the way to Denver? Lie!”

“Craig probably killed the guinea pig by accident. Tourette’s kid my ass, lie!”

“Craig hooked up with the Tourette’s kid? No way. Total lie.”

“Totally not Tweek; Thomas all the way. 100%, no proof!”

“Craig doesn’t overfeed the new Stripe! Can’t be the Tourette’s kid. Craig is straight. Fuck, what is that dude’s name?”

“Tourette’s kid my ass, dairy queen. It’s not Tweek. People can be friends, asshole. Money’s on Stripe!”

Everyone started fighting amongst themselves until Wendy clearly shouted, “Shut the fuck up or take a shot for being dumb! Stop calling him Tourette’s kid, too!”. Everyone’s glance looked more confusingly towards Craig. He knew that his silence wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t define hooking up! What do you mean, what did they do??” Tweek suddenly warbled, drunk and clearly upset by something. Craig felt an uncomfortable lump grow in his chest as he glanced down. 

“Take a shot, everyone, you all guessed wrong,” Craig said flatly, his stomach churning. How did Cartman find out he had sex with him?! It was a onetime thing — his tics and his hair, it was all experimenting. There was something about fucking him, with his shuddered movements, that Craig almost got off into him, pulled out and felt sick. Because in the end, it wasn’t his flush faced nervous wreck that he lost his virginity to. And how did he know about Tweek, especially from that long ago?! Everything was going to shit in front of him, especially his plans for later on. But fuck, it was always later on with Craig. 

And above all, fuck, the jig was up. 

“Wow,” Token said, pouring out another shot. Token had always suspected it, but being close to the two, Craig could see the betrayal in his eyes. Craig watched with false stoicism as Token took his shot “Wow.”

As the room spun, Craig looked over at Tweek, who poured himself two shots masochistically. He finished them off with ease. Tweek and Craig never kept secrets, and suddenly the air was sucked out of the room. He could feel Tweek moving slightly away, but for what reason, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Everyone fuck off and take the shot.”

The lie that was the simplest gave the most away. Everyone looked at each other silently while they took their shots. 

Fuck.


	4. 004

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Admit it!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like my work, please comment! It makes my day so much brighter to talk to other fans of south park! Thinking of starting an IG or Tumblr just for it!

After the second turn, Craig — and everyone else — decided to disband, opting for some non-exposition games; aka, beer pong. Token looked disappointed, but shoved past Cartman. 

“You don’t fucking out people,” Kyle leered, while Stan nervously (and drunkenly) cried out in agreement. The energy of the room still hung with something. An unknown buzz, understanding, and above all those frequencies; the sound of Tweek running up to grab his clothes. 

Craig had a choice. Life is made of so many little choices; ones from fear, and ones from love. And yeah, that stir, it was fucking love. Love was calling him to run up the fucking stairs — or at least speed walk. Craig always had a million excuses; it was just lunch, it was too busy at the coffee shop, Tweek was too nervous for class, they were at the movies, they were in the middle of a game, they were driving. And instead of excuses, they all looked sort of like chances. Moments where he could have. 

An unfamiliar sound came from the bedroom, where all the coats were piled up. It wasn’t one Craig heard often. It was crying. Soft, rumpled sobs from Tweek. He tried logic and it all fell to pieces around him. He started upstairs to Tweek. 

He glanced in and his heart pitted. Wendy was back on duty, arm around Tweek, asking him what exactly was wrong, then holding her arm around her younger friend. She looked up hopelessly at Craig, almost apologetically. 

“That was fucked up of Cartman, Craig — I’m so sorry,” Wendy said, standing up, long black hair under her signature beret looking wet on one side from Tweek’s tears. “I’ll leave for a second, if you need.”

Craig just nodded and stiffened as Wendy gave him a hug, then slipped away. Tweek wiped furiously at his rolling tears, half alcohol enhanced, half fueled by something Craig wasn’t completely sure of. Embarrasment? Or something more?

Tweek gave Craig a hard look and went to stand up, but Craig gently pushed him back down. He looked smaller than ever, hands furiously wiping under his eyes, shrunken nervously into his own shell. Craig opened his mouth stupidly, but didn’t get a chance. 

“Why Thomas?” Tweek nearly wailed, glass bottle empty. “I thought ... I thought you told me everything! Everything Craig!”

“I ...” Craig almost got a word in, but Tweek’s face made something in his heartstrings snap. He wasn’t embarrassed to be liked by Craig. Tweek wouldn’t cry if he did. His hair was messy and his pout trembled, holding his composure. Tweek was ... jealous, or so it seemed. 

“It’s true. I liked you since the fourth grade. I’ve always liked you. I liked you so much, I was scared to hurt you,” Craig put his arm around Tweek, but Tweek’s flinch felt like a slap. Perhaps one Craig felt he deserved. 

“We do tell each other everything, but this time was different, okay?” Craig said, almost on defense. His love mixed with liquid courage made his tongue untie easily. “Tweek, Thomas is my age. I know two years seems stupid and small, but I was scared. You’re fragile, innocent ... I didn’t want what we had to be tainted. And I was so curious, and Thomas wasn’t anything more than a hookup, and —“

“— And why wouldn’t you ... why couldn’t you come to me, Craig? Fragile,” Tweek scoffed, cheeks hot and salty. “I’m not the bubble boy, Craig. I thought we were, I don’t know, moving towards something. Love, ugh, fuck — liking someone takes time. Trust, respect, I don’t know ... I don’t know why I feel like this, we aren’t dating. But I ...” Tweek started playing with his hair, knotting it through his fingers. 

“If you were curious, why didn’t you come to me, Craig? Am I not enough? Why didn’t you try me?”

At the last two words, Craig felt himself out of his body, something in him; that sickly sweet desire. “I should have,” Craig said with finality. He tucked two fingers underneath Tweek’s chin, forcing his long lashed blue eyes to pool into his hazel ones. “And I’m going to, from now on.”

Kisses aren’t just kisses. They all have a deeper meaning, a feeling, an action, a sense. When Craig fucked Thomas, there was kissing, but they were totally and completely different languages of kiss. Those were empty and raw, but when Craig kissed Tweek, it was different. It was French — guttral, romantic, full of promises and a hint of alcohol. Tweek’s mouth was electric, soft, and inviting. And all Craig could think of was more. 

He licked Tweek’s bottom lip until it gave way, opening up for something deeper, more intense, heavy and enticing. Tweek’s tongue and mouth gave way in surrender, allowing Craig to explore. He held Tweek’s hand steadily, and Tweek placed his hand around Craig’s neck. Craig held his jaw, then to his throat, squeezing softly before releasing him. 

“Nothing broken?” Craig said, still holding his hand. Tweek looked dazed, lips shiny and wet. “Will you accept my apology if I say I’m sorry?”

“Forgiven,” Tweek whispered, squeezing his hand. Craig kissed his temple, then pulled his hoodie down, watching where his pulse lay quivering. He brushed his thumb over it, feeling the vibration underneath. “Will you be mine?” Craig waited for a small nod of his head before he took his thumb away, running his tongue over Tweek’s svete and sleek expanse of neck. 

He dived back in, sucking hard at where his pulse lay near his collarbone. He felt Tweek shudder, and held his other hand down, enjoying the squeaky noises coming abruptly erupting from his throat. After what felt like a hotly agonizing lifetime of Tweek’s small moans, Craig pulled away, satisfied. 

“Yes — fuck! Yes, fucking hell,” Tweek replied, panting heavily. The party was probably on in the basement, all debts forgiven through alcohol and all uncleared consciences could be explained by Monday. After holding so much inside, Craig felt truly soothed, and not just leaning on not giving a fuck, for the first time in a long. fucking. time.

“Everyone’s still gonna love us,” Craig said, reading his thoughts as they both sat on the bed. He felt the bresh push through Tweeks body, shivers falling down his spine. Maybe they were slightly tipsy, but what did it matter? The feelings were clear. Craig squeezed his new and old and always’ love’s hand, confident and reassuring. He could almost float through the ceiling. 

“You’re right, Craig. Let’s do this.”


	5. 005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wendys got a truck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this while i was not ‘chugging beer’. i was SAMPLING a flight of gluten free German lagers with a French wine pairing (white claws). it’s called a SMORGASVEIN and it’s elegantly cultural!! ... ok im a shitty fic mom

The party was as all South Park parties are; full of drunken discord, fighting, fucking, making up — and often a semi-buzzed speech from Kyle. Craig let Cartman score a black eye, Stan got too drunk and fell asleep on his lap while everyone else let Tweek roll perfect joints and passed them around. 

Token got an apology from Craig, and he put his palm up, saying, “No worries dude,” followed by him letting Craig know they all have shit that they don’t wanna tell the world about in the moment (Craig noticed longing glances from Token towards Nicole). And that he was just glad he didn’t have to see Catman’s dick. 

Maybe, after all this time, Craig had been the worrier. The tall kid, handsome, athletic; how could he be ... gay? And for all of the guys in town not being necessarily bad looking, Tweek was, in short terms, a pretty fucking spazz. Craig had always, from the beginning, noticed that Tweek moved in a way that was different. 

In fact, Tweek was the very opposite of Craig. Petite, pretty but so obviously male, awful at team sports, messy, disorganized, and constantly worried about the approval of his peers. Craig sometimes went to wonder if his parents hadn’t so feverently assured him he was not a mistake in the 7th grade, he’d probably be paranoid they didn’t even want him around. 

Craig was drunk and sloppy as the night wound down. Verbal communication wasn’t his forté; he said what he thought and didn’t say much else otherwise. He gave a good laugh at Cartman’s ass being beaten by an overly emotional Clyde — but every time he went, in pure reflex, to whisper something in Tweek’s ear, he lost his voice. 

“Craig ... I uh, have my permit, if I should, like, drive us,” Tweek warbled, slurring and a little unsteady on his feet. Craig’s face turned red; he thought all of these feelings would go away if he did what he did upstairs. Instead, they were boomboxing through his chest, his heart was constantly racing. 

“No, no, no,” Kyle said, stoic and ending his night sober. Stand pulled on one of his curls until Kyle batted him away.

“Let’s face facts here. Tweek can’t drive without a sober peer, I’ll still probably blow over on a breathalyzer, and,” Kyle raised his voice in agitation, letting Cartman hear. “I heard some beat up BITCH call Barbrady. We’re so screwed.”

Craig did the immediate; pulled Tweek closer to him. He had a good rep with his parents, he wasn’t trying to blow that. Tweek seemed, although still drink, suddenly riddled with anxiety, little spasms working through his spine. 

Long black hair spiraled out of nowhere. “I’m not drunk and I’ve got my dad’s truck,” Wendy said, hands swinging her keys.

“If Kyle stays with Stan for another hour and doesn’t drink, he’ll be fine. And Jesus — Stan, stop pulling Kyle’s hair like that or he’s gonna go bald by 20. I can take Bebe, Token, and Nicole to their houses. Craig can use that shop ladder ...” Tweek shot her a surprised look, but she continued “And wait it out with Tweek until morning.”

“And Kenny?” Cartman asked, beyond slightly agitated. Clyde and Red sped off after leaving him with a broken nose. He waited, looking at the group for an answer.

“I’m not a fucking soup kitchen,” Cartman finished, holding a bloody towel to his face. 

“Kenny and Butters are using your room,” Wendy said evenly, meeting Cartman’s eyes. “And I have so many videos of you getting shitfaced that your mom and Mackey will have the time of their lives sending you to ISS. Wake them up at 6. Come on guys; Tweek and Craig can lay down in the back.”

It was a bumpy ride home. Craig didn’t like to have Tweek drunk; he didn’t want him hurt, or sick. But crossfaded in the back of Wendy’s truck, the stars stretched endlessly, and Craig’s heart jumped every time Tweek’s hair fell against his neck. Without hesitation, he pulled him closer, feeling Tweek shiver in the cool dry air of the mountains. He was blissed out and so was Craig, and they laid and watched the stars until Wendy pulled silently up to Tweek’s, muttering a slew of curses as she rounded the ladder and pegged it up to Tweek’s bedroom. 

“How’s he holding up?” Wendy asked, Craig gently moving his newly found ... boyfriend (?) to get him out of the car. 

“He’ll be alright,” Craig said, voice masking the nerves. Wendy pulled at her dissheveled hair guiltily. 

“Alright,” she said finally, ushering them through it the carefully undone snow. Craig lifted Tweek, giving him advantage to pull himself up and climb.

“Craig,” Wendy faltered, looking guiltily towards her car. Craig stood and stared at her and waited. She bit her lip before she continued.

“Cartman had it wrong. I ... Tweek told me, when we were, like, 10, that he liked you. I don’t know how he thought it was you,” she looked up, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “You don’t have to pretend to like him or anything. For his sake, at least.”

For the first time since they opened the door to Cartman’s party, Craig laughed, quietly but with authenticity.

“Trust me, I’m not,” he replied, then hurried up Tweek’s makeshift ladder. Wendy smiled, then walked back towards the car.

“Hey Wendy,” Craig whispered loudly, causing her to turn. “Thanks.”

Wendy shrugged it off and smiled, before slowly driving off of Tweek’s street, heading home. Craig pulled up the laddder and shut the half open window, where Tweek’s room was in disarray, and desperately cold. Craig mentally added it to his list of things to do; get all of the coffee cups out of Tweek’s room. Tweek always wanted a pet. God forbid he brought his guinea pig over and ... fuck. Why was he thinking like that?

He locked the window and set his phone for 5 am, then crawled into bed next to Tweek. The blonde stretched, then rubbed his bleary eyes, moving closer to Craig in the already tight double bed.

“I don’t feel so hot,” Tweek said, and Craig immediately came back with, “You look it.”

Tweek gave an almost screechy giggle, and Craig clamped his hand over his mouth. Craig watched Tweek’s eyes widen, glassy and hypnotic blue. Craig felt the familiar sting of that same flush of emotion, that stirring. Daringly, he pushed up Tweek’s swearshirt, exposing him to his frigid room. 

With the confidence he had practiced in wet dreams and daytime fantasies, he pulled Tweek’s hoodie off, admiring the pale skin underneath. His fingers trembled as he ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair, then let them skate to his navel. He radiated heat and electricity. Craig wanted more; to touch more, to feel more, to taste more. His skin looked dewey in the moonlight. He placed his hand on Tweek’s chest. Tweek’s shudder snapped him into a place of reality. 

He grabbed a t-shirt for Tweek, and fumbled as he undid his pants, Tweek unceremoniously flopping as he lifted his hips. He laid there, unashamed in his drunken state and lips pouty, motioning for Craig.

“Come and get me, Tiger,” he said wantonly, vodka in his voice. Craig shut him up with a small peck on the cheek, then helped him into bed. His body radiated warmth in the double bed, so Craig shed his clothes, opting for just his boxers. His heart had hard palpitations as Tweek rolled onto him, breath soft on Craig’s neck. 

“Please let this be real,” Tweek murmured, curled tightly around Craig. Before he could answer, Tweek’s breath became slow, sedated by sleep. 

Craig stroked Tweek’s hair and looked out at the brightened crescent moon. He thought of every unholy and unhorny thing he could think of. He knew the Thomas thing would be something to work through. Bur for all the noise in his head, everything went blank as Tweek’s lithe limbs encircled him. He took two deep breaths, then spoke out to no one;

“Please let this be real.”


	6. 006

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not the harley drivers, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy v day. love conquers all! sorry it’s short but fuck it bro

His phone wailed and chirped, almost invasively, at his emergency extra 5:45 am alarm. Craig quickly turned it off, not wanting to disturb Tweek and his light sleeping family. The light coming over the snowy mountain peaks shed a soft dawn and balmy light, leaving Tweek’s cheeks pink and tinged with the blue of the coming sky. Craig couldn’t help but stare. It was almost like being drunk and high again; he was enraptured. 

Suddenly, questions came in like waves, along with his slightly rolling stomach. Would Tweek remember the details — would it freak him out? Would things be the same, or would they change; and if they did change, how so? He tried to make logical conclusions but they rarely mixed with the blonde’s reactivity. Tweek was lightning in a bottle, he was calm before the storm. And he didn’t even know the emotions he brewed in Craig’s fairly patient, oft to the point attitude. 

Tweeks hair fell sloppily around his face, golden locks frumpy around the pillows, but softly curlinh around the nape of his neck. Craig had this urge to bite into that pale expanse of throat, then shook it aside; opting instead to continue his dreamy gaze. His mouth was slightly agape, breathing heavy, sleepy breaths; a stark contrast to his usually reedy and quickened breaths. Craig held his hand to his mouth, ears red, although no one could see. His arm was on Craig’s waist, sweetly and unafraid. 

He slowly moved his arm, tucking it lightly under Tweek’s chest. Craig opened the window, the cool breeze of morning hitting his chest. Tweek shifted uncomfortably, soft sigh escaping his lips. Craig’s heart beat and skipped, and without hesitation, he left his jacket around his boyfriend’s ... well, Tweek’s slight frame. 

And silent as he could, he undid the ladder, texting Kenny to pick him up as he walked down the street. From Kenny’s android, he read, “jumping the car now. see u in 10”. He breathed a sight of relief, looking up at the closed window that contained Tweek. 

He walked a block over before seeing Kenny’s beat up Ford, rumbling a death moan as he waved him over. Craig gave a half smile, and got inside. Kenny’s car was on its last legs, and as the car door opened, it looked like it was about to fall off its hinges. 

“Fuck you dude, it’s freezing.”

“Fuck you dude, you forgot your coat — and to say you’ve been gay,” Kenny said, muffled and rugged, before unzipping his jacket slightly and begrudgingly turning up the heat. Craig half heartedly gave him the finger as they drove to Cartman’s. Craig’s silence gave weakness to Kenny’s soft side, opening a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds, handing one to Craig. He relented, a sucker for nicotine. 

“Man, fuck. Nobody said you were gay when you started hanging out with Butters — and everyone calls him a fag, just for like ... fuck, I dunno, being Butters,” Craig said, taking a long drag. Kenny laughed, then winced, massaging a pretty but bruised cheek. 

“Dude,” he started, heavy inhale on his cigarette, ashing into an old coffee cup. “I never had to — and shit, who knows what sexuality spectrum I might be on,” Kenny switched lanes as Stan’s dad, Randy, swerved on the road. Craig resisted the urge to flick him off too, but words from Kenny were spare and wise. Kenny got back into his lane and continued, nonchalant. “I showed who I was and what I wanted with actions.”

They pulled into Cartman’s driveway and both begrudgingly sent texts to their groupchat, reminding everyone to get out of Cartman’s driveway before people’s parents sobered up. Craig sighed, feeling suddenly weak in Kenny’s eyes. “Tweek is a good kid. So are you. And dude, I could tell you liked Tweek. Since God knows when,” Kenny spat out of his window on Heidi’s car and continued. “But people here aren’t so prone to nuances — maybe not even Tweek. For all your rationality, ya gotta ... I don’t know.” Craig stared at him hard. He did know. Kenny relented. 

“You have to stand for something or you’ll fall for anything. And I’ll back you when you do.”

They stomped their cigarettes on the asphalt and walked towards their car, Kenny and Craig both looking forward as Stan laid in the back of Kyle’s minivan, with Kyle’s red hair nodding reassuringly (and probably nervously, knowing the hours Sheila kept), as he puked onto Cartman’s driveway. Nuances, Craig thought, as they passed by the Fireball scented puke. Nuances, they were everywhere. 

Kenny helped him through the blocked cars by way of Cartman’s lawn, leaving tiremarks for a hungover Token and a pissed off Clyde to unbox themselves from the driveway. Craig chipped Cartman’s mailbox and him and Kenny both laughed as it fell. 

Before they split ways, Craig grabbed Kenny’s arm — nuances be damned. “If yours or Butters’ dad is leaving those marks, fuck man. Just text me. You ... you can stay at my place. Tricia got into that boarding school, so, it’s fine.”

Kenny’s face went white then flushed, palming his face quirmishly. “Thanks, dude,” he said earnestly, before spinning on his heels and saying, “But I’m totally taking Token’s house over yours. When he offers.”

Craig snorted then told him to fuck off, as they both went and parted ways. He smiled as he watched Kenny’s car putter towards the now fairly abandoned arts district, as he headed into the strip by Jimmy Valmer’s house. He passed Token, who smiled at him and gave him a friendly finger from his dad’s Escalade. Craig returned the favor. 

Cruising joyfully, he made the roundabout, passing Tweek’s house once more, then onto the town, not wanting the feeling to fade. He passed by his newly claimed love’s family’s coffee shop, before his stomach sank into his stomach. He felt his stomach curl. 

On the brand new decaled window of Tweek Bros Coffee Shop, the words were etched in red graffiti like blood, handwriting almost familiar; the window broken in by a rock. 

“FOR FRIENDS, FAMILY AND FAGS.”


	7. 007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys and the boyfriends

“Dude,” Craig breathed out, sitting outside in the parking lot of the school. 

“Dude, fuck,” Clyde replied. He looked pissed, and slightly hurt. “I mean, nobody left the party. It’s so screwed up. I mean — we say fag, like, sometimes, but not like ... FAG fag. This is like a, uh, hate crime, man.”

“It’s not ‘like’ a hate crime, Clyde,” Token replied, looking up at the grey sky. It was going to snow soon. “It straight up is one.”

The three of them — well two, since Token didn’t smoke — passed a cigarette and sat back on the hood of Craig’s car as they skipped English to mull over the graffiti incident. 

“It was good that you called them. I mean, I heard on the news that Tweek’s parents still don’t know the how or why,” Clyde said, inhaling a sweet drag before handing it back to Craig. 

“Well, they will tonight,” Craig huffed out, exhaling the pale blue smoke to the smokey grey sky. “I’m taking Tweek out.”

“Shit man, that’s great. It’s a good idea. Little fuckers been acting more skittish than usual. He barely talked to me at all last period,” Token sighed, clicking his pen.

“No surprise there,” Craig said. “But he still loves you, dude. But he’s my little fucker. But he thinks you’re the shit,” he reassured, which he rarely did. 

“Who doesn’t?” Token chided, then threw his hands up. “And trust me, no competition here man. The only little fucking I’m trying to do is with Nicole.”

“You wish,” Craig rebutted, flicking the dead cigarette on the asphalt. 

“Nah dude, you wish.”

“I do not! I’m in love with Bebe!” Craig cried, like the mush he was. 

“We know,” Craig and Token said in unison, before bursting in laughter. The mood lightened a little, Craig starting yet another bragging gush about Bebe and her holy perfection. 

Craig’s mouth twitched from a smile for what seemed like the first time in a while. With everything that had happened in the past few days, it looked like Tweek hadn’t slept in days. 

It was one thing to be in your first steps of dating, another for it to be with another guy, and then it was no help for his already anxious personality to have it marked in red all over for the town to see. 

They had barely gotten to spend time together since the incident, Craig practically hauling ass to Whole Foods to coax him into pairing eating with his double shot espressos. Craig wasn’t worried, but was decided. If Tweek’s parents hadn’t figured it out, they would that night. 

“How are you gonna tell them?” Clyde asked, getting his binder ready for his last period Chemistry quiz. 

“Exactly how you told Bebe’s parents — honestly,” Token answered for him, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He clapped an encouraging hand on Craig, who encouraged him back with a smile and his middle finger. 

For all the fuckers there, Clyde, Token and Jimmy were the only ones who wouldn’t start some sort of war over Craig cool essence and casual birds. They’d had an unspoken bond since they were kids. The bell rang and they clamored up the stairs, some kids yelling and papers flying as they rushed the hallways to their next period. 

“Later dudes,” Token called behind his shoulder, homework neatly highlighted and prepped. “Good luck, Craig,” he added, before opening the door to his AP French class. 

“Where’s my good luck?” Clyde whined indignantly, shaking his Chemistry notes, sloppily written in smudged pencil. Token gave him a once over and laughed. 

“You should have asked God for it, like, at the beginning of the semester, Donovan,” Token shot back easily, before slipping into class. 

“Fuckin’ nerd!” Clyde yelled back, to the closed door. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Craig said monotonously, nudging his shorter friend. “We both know you’re failing.”

“And you aren’t?” he questioned, as they both walked into a hushed room. 

“No way, man. I already got Token’s good luck.”

“That wasn’t about this!”

“Donovan, Tucker! Sit down and pencils out!” 

Craig held back the urge to roll his eyes as he dropped his bag to the floor, mechanical pencil ready. He already heard Clyde’s loud sigh and papers shuffling from behind him. 

The quiz started and Craig breezed through it, Kyle had already begrudgingly texted him which chapter to study. Twenty bucks well paid to leave school 30 minutes early. He handed it in and left, discreetly sending a photo to a beaten and woeful looking Clyde. And people said he was an asshole!

He practically ran to his car, a light snow falling in fat lazy drops. Craig pushed his dark hair from his face as he sent Tweek a text to come out. His heart did that beat skip as Tweek texted back immediately, along with four different but emojis that craig never understood. 

_its free study here. be there in 5 mins! i’m escaping!_  
🤘🏻😬🥳🥰

_Ok, take ur time. We r getting waffles if u make it out alive_

_and ☕️...?_

_... U have 2 mins of ur 5._

Craig watched as another five minutes passed, then saw a bounding blonde rush through the doorways. He leaned back and smiled, knowing Tweek loved nothing more than bready and sweet breakfast food. 

His bag was halfway off, fingers and cheeks flushed, an olive, cool but probably his dad’s hand me down Champion crew neck sweatshirt covering his thin frame, Craig’s varsity jacket underneath his arm. A high necked tee poked out modestly, and Craig noticed his usual battered Reeboks were replaced by squeaky clean Air Force 1s. 

“Nice kicks,” Craig commented as he opened the door from the inside — a new thing he had started doing, for whatever reason. Crushing and stuff. He even started to keep an extra tee shirt and his thick, cozy light blue cableknit sweater in the back for him at all times. He couldn’t help it. 

“Dad got ‘em for me, plus my under the table child labor wages,” he beamed, looking pleased with himself. 

“Please don’t say child, I’m trying to make out with you when we pull outta here, and I’ve only got another year before that gets illegal.”

“So is buying weed and drinking, but I won’t tell if you don’t,” Tweek said with a sneaky smile, taking Clyde aback by his open flirting. And how much he liked it. 

“This isn’t the fuckin’ army, Tweek. Now come here,” Craig replied dryly, pulling over once they were safely off school grounds. 

Tweek leaned in slightly, now shyly closing his eyes. Craig mentally took in the image,   
and took the rest of the space in the car, letting himself hook onto his bottom lip. He gave a soft bite to Tweek’s bottom expanse of plush mouth. 

He could feel zaps of energy buzzing through his body as Tweek gave a breathy whimper and deepened into it. Craig felt hot, a rush through his body. His soft, whiney noises sounded almost like porn, and this was just tonsil hockey. He let his imagination wonder shamelessly about what more could be emitted from his pretty throat if he ventured further. Craig reached up, glancing the window and feeling the steam. Fucking hell. 

He took hold of Tweek’s seatbelt and put it down, strapping him into the car. Craig pushed back his hair, removing his lips to kiss his temple, then where his jaw met his neck. 

“H-hey!” Tweek half yelped, clutching onto Craig’s shoulder. “No hickeys until we tell my ma and dad.”

“Right,” Craig said, almost to remind himself. “You still nervous?”

“Always, duh,” Tweek replied, and Craig rolled his eyes, but took his hand encouraging him to continue. He did. 

“Of course I’m nervous, but it’s just ... like, anticipating,” Tweek replied, thumbing over his knuckles. “I’m gonna be so fucking relieved when it’s all over, yannow? My parents are freaking out already, so it gets me to freak out. Like, who did this? Who wants to hurt me, or my parents? But, like, in terms of you ... the pining was so much, agh, _so_ much fucking worse. The timing just totally blows. I want this over with, so there’s no more freaking out,” he finished, looking up at Craig. 

“Yeah, I know, but I need you to stop losing sleep over it. It’s like I said yesterday. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, as long as I’m alive — but we’ve been through this. In terms of us, let’s face it. There’s never the right time to come out, you’re right,” Craig agreed, starting the car back up again, turning his windshield wipers on against the snowfall. “But, I only want you freaking out over one thing right now.”

“W...What?!”

“Me, ya baby. And maybe the pancakes we’re about to have.”

“Seriously?! You promised waffles!!”

“Sharp as a tack, you are. Relax, we’re on our way.”

He pulled off and onto the road, knowing for certain that in a few hours, there would only be one thing for certain; him, and his unapologetic fall for Tweek Tweak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i live off of your care and feedback! thank you so much for reading this (“:


	8. 008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they’re so gay and im so not editing for an hour. fingers hurt!

The waffles were, obviously, not as good in Fairplay as the ones Tweek made. Mostly because nothing got Craig more worked up than seeing Tweek so absorbed in stirring batter, flour kissing his cheekbones. Yeah, that’s right, Craig Tucker was into Tweek Tweak making fucking waffles. Tweek could probably stand and do nothing and Craig could find a way to get off on it. 

“Getting gayer,” Craig said out loud, thinking of Tweek licking maple syrup off of his fingers and Craig finishing the job, half smiling as Tweek had a small aneurism, wildly looking around to see what he was experiencing. The snow was getting thicker, and Craig watched carefully to not miss the turn to Tweek’s house. 

“Wait — what did you just say?” Tweek asked, giving him raised eyebrows as he flicked his right blinker on. 

“We’re almost there,” Craig answered quickly, heading up to Tweek’s. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tweek hummed, letting the comment go by. “Why, are you nervous?”

“Never,” Craig semi-lied, for Tweek’s sanity, as they pulled into the driveway, snow crunching underneath his tires. “I’m ready.”

He turned off the car and watched as Tweek took deep inhales in through his nose and out through his mouth— a trick he learned from a YouTube link Craig sent him when he had a class presentation. Boldly, Craig pressed his lips against Tweek’s forehead, a coldsweat breaking out. 

“Relax, honey,” he cooed (yeah, he COOED), trying to lighten Tweek’s spirits. “Just follow my lead. We’ve got this.” 

Tweek let out a slow exhale in response, then nodded. 

The both walked carefully up the stairs, Tweek’s new sneakers leaving little ridges on the ground behind them. Craig’s fingers hovered for a second, then he buzzed the doorbell. 

Mr. Tweak answered, a good looking man with light auburn brown hair and sharing Tweek’s slim but slightly older, more set figure. He smiled, looking grateful. 

“Craig! Thanks for taking Tweek home in this weather. He forget his keys again?” Mr. Tweak asked, looking almost amused. 

“Y-Yes,” Tweek sighed, almost palming his face. Craig nudged him. 

“Sorry sir, I didn’t know that— just wanted to drive him home. Would it be alright if I came in for a moment?” Craig asked, voice calm but surprisingly respectful and warm. 

“Oh! Of course, what a great surprise. Need more hours, kid? Here, lemme get your jacket. Tweek’s mom was just making a decaf latte, if you guys wanted to try it out!” Mr. Tweak looked proud, and Mrs. Tweek poked her head out, giving Craig a smile before reminding Tweek to take off his new shoes. 

“Hours are great, Mr. Tweak — and a latte would be great,” Craig replied, even though he didn’t really love coffee, also taking off his boots and walking inside. They all took a seat on the couch, Mrs. Tweak bringing out cups and setting them neatly on the coffee table. 

Tweek’s house always smelled like baked goods, and had a soft precense that equally balanced Tweek’s chaotic self. His parents were mild-mannered, his father more of a talker, similar to Tweek. 

Craig looked around and leaned forward, thanking Mrs. Tweak as she poured them each a cup, adding a little extra espresso shot for Tweek. Little fucker was spoiled with love, Craig noticed, happy as Tweek eagerly poured it into his latte, mumbling a small thanks to his mom. 

“What’s this all about, Craig? I hope it’s not you quitting on us! We’re so sorry about you having to see that terrible graffiti. Probably the college kids at Boulder over the weekend,” Mr. Tweak speculated, looking up at Craig through his sip of coffee. 

“Amazing job, dear!”

“Thank you, love. Now, what’s on your mind, Craig?” Mrs. Tweak asked, getting to the point. Her eyes were blue, but soft, and her hands were steady in her lap. Craig had always had a liking for her soft sensitivity. The room was still inviting. Craig hoped it would stay that way. Craig inhaled. 

“Ma, ack! I snuck out last weekend and went to a party with Craig, and he didn’t want me getting in trouble, and I’m gay and I want you to know me and Craig like each other, agh, please don’t get mad at him, it was my idea and he just wanted to make sure I was safe and please be cool with it!”

“Uh,” Craig said, whipping his head over at a now standing Tweek, eyes brimming with tears. 

“I like him a lot and I’m really sorry, Craig was going to say it for us, but you guys have to understand,” Tweek squaked out, breathing heavily. Mrs. Tweak’s hands remained steady, only moving to rub Mr. Tweak’s hand for a moment. 

“Tweek, we aren’t stupid, we’ve seen the ladder since summer,” his mom said evenly, motioning for Tweek to sit down. He obeyed, looking frantically at his dad. She squeezed her husband’s hand. 

“Craig, thank you for taking care of him,” Mr. Tweak started, with a bit of a cough. Craig’s ears were red, all of them a little shocked by Tweek’s blatant and blanketed honesty. 

“We know how it is — Hell, we were kids once, too. We weren’t going to shut out Craig for being responsible and taking you home every other night this summer,” Craig took a half eased breath, nearly falling back into their couch. 

“What upsets me,” Mr. Tweak continued, looking equally reproachful at the both of them. He cleared his throat, looking at Tweek with warmth and sadness in his eyes. 

“What upsets me is that you two hid being in a relationship for the past year. Son, I told you, you could always come to me. Why would you hide this for so long?” he asked, a tear coming to his eye. Mrs. Tweek looked equally sad and mercurial, looking reproachfully at her honey blonde son. 

Craig’s barked laugh snapped the family crisis out for a second, attention off of Tweek. 

“Sir!” he said, apologizing for his laugh in the process of dabbing his eyes. “We just started dating over the weekend. I’m so sorry to have possibly hurt your trust — but no, it’s been, like, five days, Mr. and Mrs. Tweak,” Craig finished, stopping his laughter. Tweek reached for his hand, almost looking confused by Craig’s mixture of crying laughter. 

“I haven’t even told my own parents yet!”

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Tweek breathed, clutching her necklace. “So, do you think your dad found out, and he got upset? Do you think he wrote that graffiti? It’s okay.”

“Definitely not,” Craig answered confidently, knowing in the back of his mind that his dad wasn’t exactly fully literate half of the time. He had no idea what he did in the office, honestly. 

“They’re so caught up with Tricia getting into a boarding school, they’ve been really busy,” Craig confided further, now breathing deeply. 

“Craig, I couldn’t have been blessed with a better son. And I don’t know any other kid in this town who’s been as good to my boy. And I know he makes, well, mostly, good choices. Except for the keys,” Mr. Tweak said, eyeing Tweek, “Which we will discuss later.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Craig,” Mrs. Tweak said, reaching over to comfort Craig, who almost felt drunk by the entire situation. 

“Yes, thank you for coming to us,” Mr. Tweak agreed, standing up to give Craig a hug. 

“Hey, I’m the one who said it!” Tweek cried, looking at his parents with bewiderment. Craig peeped over Mr. Tweak’s hug, slipping him a finger while the two fussed over him. 

“Yes, you too, Sweetheart,” his mom said, firmly planting a kiss in the same spot that Craig had. 

“Tweek texted us and said you ate, but would you like to stay a little longer?” Mr. Tweak asked, looking out the window. The snow was beginning to rush down, already blocking his car in a bit. 

“Actually, you’re welcome to stay over, I don’t want you driving in this weather. Can you call your parents?” he questioned evenly, before beaming at the two boys, as if he had solved some sort of terribly hard crossword puzzle. 

“I’d love to, sir, thank you,” Craig replied, the weight off of his chest giving him his critical thinking back, as he slowly sat back on the couch next to Tweek. 

“Great! You’re welcome to stay in Tweek’s room, just ... uh, maybe leave the door open, at night, boys,” he said, looking at his wife for approval. She shrugged, then smiled happily. 

“Only if Craig wants to,” she invited again, clearing the table. Craig jumped up to help. Tweek stared in disbelief. 

“Yes ma’am. Absolutely.”


	9. 009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basement stuff

Tweek was quiet as they sat in the living room. Craig was simultaneously shocked and proud; spazzy, nervous hearted, oft bullied Tweek was the one who — without any coaxing or provoking — made his nervous energy into a truthful energy. Still anxious, but honest. 

As the Tweak family conversed amongst themselves, as Craig texted a casual “staying out” to his family group chat, he took his idle hand to take Tweek’s hand, and squeezed it. 

“I’m so proud of you, honey,” Craig said, brain overworking to fit the puzzle pieces to Tweek’s outburst. Tweek was bleary eyed, but comforted by Craig’s almost stiff, yet meaningful words. He squeezed his hand back. 

“You have anxiety, and that’s okay. We all do, Tweek. But it’s okay that yours is harsh. I’m not a stone ... or whatever — I can relate, yannow. Thanks for facing it. I believe in you.”

“... You wanna see something?” Tweek asked, breaking the light tension from the emotional outburst. 

“Absolutely.”

“We’re going downstairs, Ma,” Tweek called, to fairly deaf ears. Mary Tweak was arguing over coffee prices. Tweek’s basement was not something he had seen since he was a kid, and not something Craig had ever remembered as remarkable. Just a place with a washer and dryer and some play clothes. 

They went slowly down the stairs, Tweek closing the door behind them, switching on a light. The room was filled with a hazy red, soft and inviting. Craig followed Tweek’s self assured hand, walking down the creaky stairs. It was cool and airy, the light drawing Craig in. 

“Woah,” Craig breathed, his foot reaching the spacious concrete of the underground foundation of his home. Tweek shrugged and grinned, face glowing in the inviting red light. 

“One sec, Craig,” he responded, then darted over to a lightswitch by the boiler. Suddenly, the room began to twinkle, small christmas lights counterint the soft underbelly of the basement. 

The room was drenched in soft white lights, wrapping around the staircase, the ceiling — everywhere. . Green, purple, blue, and a warm orange from the lights twinkling down like stalactites. The cold concrete was covered in various soft blankets, a pale green carpet with small rings of white flowers, a mattress, a small handmade desk that held a projector, and a giant screen hung from the basement rafter. Tweek’s old couch from when they were kids was on the side, and posters decorated the concrete walls. The dryer hummed in the back of the room, giving a gentle purr.

“You did all of this?” Craig asked, looking up at all of the concentrated effort. Tweek looked up, too, squeezing his hand again softly. 

“I-I mean, coffee helped. We all need a place to feel safe ... plus, my parents watch shitty tv,” Tweek puffed up, looking proud and accomplished by Craig’s unsaid compliments. Their unspoken confidence. 

“Um,” Craig responded, before, in that very safe space for Tweek, Craig captured his mouth with his. The room was filled with pretty colors and soft lifgts, Craig unabashed as he momentarily opened his eyes while kissing him, in wonder of the lights bouncing off his bouncing boy. Tweek whined into the kiss, before breaking it off. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Tweek questioned, walking over and pulling his laptop from behind the projector. Craig nodded, then slowly, almost awkwardly sitting on the pillow and mountain of blankets. His heart was pounding with the nights events, his teenage need, his lasting desires. 

Tweek brightened as he put a NASA documentary on, the projector on the white screen. He walked over, feigning casual, then Craig pulled him down by the arm, collapsing him into a fit of giggles. 

“You know how to treat ... me,” Craig hummed happily, feeling kind of dumb and in awe, planets and a warm voice documenting the stars. Tweek threw his head back and laughed, only to be caught by another kiss. 

Craig was full of emotions. Relief, wonder, admiration, sympathy— and want. He was doing what boys his age wanted to do, what their brains were obsessed with; exploring. And Craig wanted to explore Tweek. 

“Could I, uh, put the washing machine on?” Craig asked, causing a look of confusion on Tweek’s face. He looked towards the pile of undone wash.

“Um, sure Craig — purple laundry basket. It’s all you,” Tweek replied agreeably, throwing off his pants as he cozied up to watch the soft spoken space documentary. Craig obeyed, pouring in the detergent and hearing the washer fill with water. The sounds made enough noise to overpower the upstairs noises. 

Craig walked back and slipped underneath the covers, taking in Tweek’s lithe body, boxers looking thin, barely and trustingly covering the areas of Tweek that Craig feverishly desired. Craig felt his stomach drop in want. God, or whoever, took extra time with him.

“Tweek,” Craig started, but was unable to finish. His curiously compelled him as he befan kissing Tweek like a promise, tounges shyly finding one another in the luminous dark. The narrator quietly rushed him on, to reach the unknown wonders of Tweek Tweak. 

“Can I ...?” Craig asked, not knowing exactly what for. Tweek just turned into puslating vibrations, twitching and moaning underneath Craig’s firm grasp. He nodded before jutting his hips up, making Craig shudder in pleasurable surprise.

Craig kissed his eyelids and nose when he pressed a slightly sweaty hand down his boxers, sucking earnestly on Tweek’s neck. The light inside the basement began to tornado around him as he palmed Tweek’s cock, already hard and seeking attention. Craig wondered at his boyfriend’s body, before he slowly began to jerk Tweek off. Tweek’s eyes widened at him like they did when Craig snuck in his house, but it lit a fire inside. 

Craig looked down at the sins he was creating. He was possibly smaller than Craig, but not by much. Craig had played with himself enough to knpw what felt good, but that young hormonal desire flickered within him. He wanted more. So much more. 

Without hesitating, Craig felt his other hand as it moved lower, feeling almost out of his body feeling and circling Tweek’s tight entry way. 

“Fuck,” Craig deadpanned, nothing else coming to mind. Tweek looked handsome and pretty and beautiful and hot and he felt supple underneath him. “Fuck. Tweek.”

Forgivingly, Craig spat on his fingers before pushing two knuckles inside Tweek, making the blonde sit up fast, biting hard into Craig’s shoulder. Craig winced as the pain became a little muthal, but it was like that pain went straight down to his cock. He gave a moan in response, while Tweek continued whining while Craig kissed him, drowning out both of their overeager noises. 

“Shh. Relax, honey,” Craig reassured, slowly thrusting his fingers in. Tweek began shuddering as he kept up his pace, thrusting in a gentle upwards motion. He had been studying some things online that made him believe in himself — slightly. 

“Craig,” was all Tweek managed out, and his soothing partner watched with a full heart and dick as his partner whimpered and wind, nervously grabbing both of his arms until a surprised, pleasureable moan escaped his lips. Craig cut it off with a kiss, self satisfied, yet slightly aware he was awkwardly dry humping the blonde’s leg. He quickened both of his hands. 

Tweek was flushed and breathing heavily when their moutha parted, a surprised “oh” escaping his lips before he squeezed Craig again in warning, before biting down yet again on Craig’s shoulder as he came on his stomach. He sat up, almost embarrassed, and Craig shot up immediately and grabbed a towel, running back to clean up the mess. Tweek let him, as if in a daze. 

With hot cheeks and chewed up lips, he looked at Craig’s obvious boner before kissing Craig’s shoulder apologetically. Craig’s face was blank, but everything in his body was shaking. Both of their faces were flushed, breathing raggedly. The narrator’s voice continued through space. 

“Do ... um, should I ...?” Tweek wondered, grabbing Craig’s hips. Craig ran a hand through his messy hair, smoothing down his brown hair before attempting the same with Tweek. He cocked his head, wondering if he should. 

“I kinda want to finish this movie,” Craig said dumbly, and Tweek played with a stray thread on the blanket beside him, almost pouting at his nonchalant reaction. Craig ruffled his hair up again, apologetic. 

“We have all night, so,” Craig corrected, smiling. Tweek looked up at him and smiled, running his hands up and down Craig’s back in comfort. Craig kissed his forehead and laid down next to him, staring at the blinking lights. Tweek rolled on his side and kissed Craig’s forehead back, before snuggling into his arm. 

“I like you,” Tweek said, just because he could, as the documentary took them further from the galaxy. 

“Me too, Tweek. I like you, too.”


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (: someone didnt edit

The night passed as snow fell lazily on the quiet town, but in Craig’s eyes, it could have been a lifetime. Quick kisses peppered one another’s faces; approving nods and easy chatter when Mrs. Tweak came down with snacks for the two to share. Craig wished he could pause this moment for a lifetime; his boyfriend’s soft spoken, unafraid proclamations of love promised on the basement floor. 

“We’re going to bed, boys; are you two going to, um, behave yourselves?” Mr. Tweak asked, from the top of the stairs. He peered at Craig for an answer. 

“Absolutely,” Craig replied, poking at Tweek as he jumped, then echoed his words. 

“Alright,” Mr. Tweak sighed, rubbing his temples together. He was tired, too. “Just try to get up and sleep soon, okay? Craig, do you mind getting Tweek to school tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” Craig answered, then Tweek hugged his father goodnight. There was still a buzzing of emotion as Tweek climbed down. 

“Wanna head upstairs?” Tweek asked, looking shy and sweet as he turned the projector off. 

“Totally,” Craig said, almost drunk from sleepiness, humming into a kiss as he embraced his blonde ball of sunshine. 

Craig grabbed Tweek’s laptop, almost on its last breath from coffee spillage and over storage. The two quietly climbed up the two sets of stairs to the end of the hall, where Tweek’s room was in dissaray. 

“I’ll be right back, Craig,” Tweek smiled as he left his room to the bathroom down the hall. 

“Duh, you live here,” Craig muttered good naturedly, while group texting Jimmy, Token and Clyde. He scanned the room; unfinished projects, a calendar desperately trying to capture what he wanted to accomplish, and empty cardboard and plastic coffee cups.

Craig looked in his top drawer and found an old Tweak Bro’s sweatshirt, before easily moving the coffee cups into his wastebasket. He wondered what was taking Tweek so long. He grabbed an extra charger and began to mindlessly go through social media. He noticed Thomas was still active, but he skipped over his Instagram stories. He took a moment to unfollow him as well, just in case. He wanted Tweek to know where his heart stayed. 

“Hi,” Tweek said, shyly upon returning. Craig cocked his head and gave a slow wave in response. He was fresh, showered, hair wet and dripping upon an old South Park Middle School tie-dye tee. He could vaguely see his signature on it, as well as a few others. Tweek looked pretty, the light from the moon illuminated his skin. Almost vampiric; Twilight couldn’t have found someone as agitatingly beautiful as Tweek. 

They laid down together, a respectable sliver of the door left unshut. Craig drew big circles on Tweek’s back, pushing up the hem of his tee shirt. They looked out of the window to admire the fullness of the moon behind the stormy winter clouds, leaving snow on all of the pine trees. 

More happened, too. Tweek’s desire to try new things was as much there as Craig’s desires to try with him. Mouths wet with desires, a determined expression from the younger blonde. Craig with two hands covering Tweek at the end of the bed with a thick duvet as he bobbed beneath him, the sharp inhale by Craig, and the surprised swallow by Tweek. It wasn’t planned, not that anything was, but even Craig felt unsure as he let out heavy breaths in the cool of the deep blue Colorado night. 

Easily, Tweek rolled back up, and Craig hugged him gently as he wiped his mouth. The atmosphere was thick with emotion. Tweek, to his surprise, began to cry weakly into his chest. 

“It was that bad?” Craig huffed out, slightly worried, as big splotchy tears rolled out of Tweek’s pretty blues. He shook his head feverently, and Craig took only a beat before realizing Tweek was about to start hyperventilating. 

Taking charge, Craig sat him up, holding Tweek’s hands above his head, forcing him to relax his shoulders. Craig knew an anxiety attack better than a goddamn paramedic with Tweek around. 

“I’m scared,” Tweek sniffled and coughed out, as Craig circled his wrists. This was Tweek’s first two interactions with a guy, or anyone. Craig couldn’t imagine. Craig nodded his head with understanding, before pulling Tweek into a hug.

“We don’t have to go so far,” he responded, making the same slow circles on Tweek’s back. He had learned a while back that sometimes logical deductions and reasoning didn’t go with every emotional moment. 

“What else are you feeling?” Craig asked, still soothingly allowing himself to be Tweek’s snot rag. Tweek took ragged breaths before answering. 

“I want to be real boyfriends!” 

“We are, Tweek.”

“Not just for sex!” Tweek cried out sharply, grabbing nervously at a long lock of blonde. Craig batted his hand away. 

“Jesus, Tweek. Really? The blowjob was great, honey, you’re great, but that’s not why I’m here,” Craig whispered, holding Tweek’s hand to his chest. “I’m here for everything you told your parents you wanted. And I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Y-You mean it, Craig?”

“Well, the blowjob was pretty cool, but yeah. I’m not trying to rush this — I was actually kinda worried about doing all this now. I know what might make you feel better,” Craig said, kissing Tweek’s knuckles in the illumination of the moon against the dark. 

“What would that be?” Tweek questioned, curling up against Craig as he scratched his soft brow hair. 

“I’ll tell my parents too, okay? And there’s no pressure to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? What kinda person would I be not to,” Craig said, before opening his grinder for Tweek to focus on something other than the issue at hand. 

Tweek started immediately focusing on something else; the Tweaks already were heavy pot smokers, so smell wasn’t of issue there — although Craig did miss the days of smoking on rooftops in middle school. 

“God,” Tweek started giggling, taking the first puff as Craig— still cautious— opened up the bedroom window. They took turns smoking, ashing into a lid of one of Tweek’s coffee cups. The snow stayed out, mercifully blowing North. 

“You must think I’m pretty lame now, crying after that.”

“You’re already kinda lame,” Craig said, casually inhaling. “But you’re the best I’ll ever have.”

“Selling yourself short for my confidence, what a hero,” Tweek snorted, and Craig pushed him lovingly. 

“You’re sorta pricey. I mean, I was willing to lose my job and my friends over you,” Craig joked, smiling as Tweek held in a cough.

“Way to throw it on me! We’re smoking at my house, after all, maybe I’m risking my parents!” Tweek lied, then took a beat before asking his question; the one Craig knew was coming. 

“Was I better than your last boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Craig answered, nonchalant. He took a final drag and let his eyes rake over the slope of Tweek’s nose. “And you’re beyond better. Who would be brought to tears over sucking my dick? But you cry over everything, so ....”

The window shut and Craig was on top of Tweek, Tweek leaning upwards to lick the side of his ear and down to his chin. Tweek laughed until Craig sucked his collarbone hard, leaving a smart red mark. Tweek needed to know that he belonged to Craig. Eagerly, Tweek did the same, and Craig realized he needed that, too. Leave it to Tweek to know him better than he inew himself. 

“I cry over what matters,” Tweek said mildly, now locked in Craig’s close embrace. He put an earphone to Craig’s high ears and Third Eye Blind pulsed through both their ears. 

“If I was a crybaby like you, then I’d be weeping.”

”Whatever!”

Tweek brushed the hair from Craig’s eyes and smiled, teeth radiating a gleam over the pale moonlight. Craig had the sudden urge to tell him he loved him, or something along those lines. 

“You matter,” Craig said, staring at his blonde haired boyfriend. “You’re my boyfriend.”

“You matter,” Tweek whispered, giving him a soft, open mouthed kiss. “I’m your boyfriend.”

They both fell asleep, entangled, Third Eye Blind in the background as the snow piled against the windowpane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was short ive been busy!!! but getting back on the plot. lmk what’s up and you can reach me whenever here or tumblr ❤️


	11. 011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> love blonde boys

Kenny was a boy who didn’t talk often, but wrote with passion. Butters lay still, watching Kenny write diligently, biting his pencil and playing with his deep, almost strawberry blonde hair. Butters smiled, and on impulse began playing with his own overgrown fade cut sun bleached platinum hair. Kenny paused for a moment to ruffle Butters bangs back up. 

They both knew who wrote the hateful speech on the Tweak’s coffee shop. Butters nursed Kenny’s black eye on the worn out spring mattress, and Kenny knelt down softly to kiss his partner’s split lip, licking the wound gently. 

His dad had punched him, fully and with vigor, and Leopold, not so lovingly nicknamed “Butters” since preschool, had only taken an extra, clean pair of sheets over to Kenny’s house. He argued that it was for all of the tutoring Kenny had given him, but his parents could smell a lie a mile away. Since he had his own car, he had gotten a lot better at escaping the violence. 

Kenny, as scandalously sexual as he always had been, felt taken by the innocence Butters consistently presented; always bullied, but had a fire within him. He was usually in trouble, overworked in a dictatorship household, while Kenny barely had a soul watching over him. Kenny felt the sympathy and admiration turn into the loss of sense of self when he felt those pinpricks of a crush blossoming in his chest. 

Kenny found himself the moment they fucked, Playboy calendar falling off of the wall in sacrimony as Butters withered and came back to life beneath him. It was a silent promise to each other ever since; sparks don’t often fly like that, especially for Kenny, who was usually on to the next conquest at the drop of a hat. 

Kenny lit a cigarette at the thought, then kissed him again — hard, but mindful and vengeful towards his bottom lip. With a whine, Kenny pulled away, satisfied. Butters smiled at him, then peered over to his letter. 

“You’re positive it was him, Ken?” Butters asked, always wanting the best to be inside of people. Kenny nodded, the handed Butters the letter. Butters opened his Macbook to type it out. 

“You’re right, we both saw him,” Butters replied, without Kenny saying a thing. “I can attach the snapchat I took, too, for proof; it was public, but I don’t think anyone really watches my stories — besides you and Eric. Are you sure it should be written?”

“I don’t want you or I mixed up in this, B,” Kenny said, suddenly feeling protective. He put out his cigarette in his glass ashtray. With one gay couple in South Park, it felt almost too small for two. It might shake up the sleepy town too much. Kenny drummed his fingers on Butters’ back as he typed away. 

He looked around his room, the holes and the ripped carpet, wondering how he got so lucky with Butters. He knew as soon as he graduated he was gonna get them both out. His little sister, too, if he could make it. He was determined to, eyes trailing to a fading bruise on Butters’ lower back, in the expanse of skin where his shirt rode up. He impulsively kissed the bright, well-mannered boy’s temple. His heart dipped instinctively. 

Kenny worked constantly, and had already saved enough for a downpayment to rent a house with his older brother, closer to Denver. Kenny couldn’t wait, keeping the secret close. He was still at home — barely — always at the auto parts store as a mechanic. They made the pact last year, after Karen came home with a meth pipe, which she had mistaken for a beaker. After that, Kenny waited tables at one of the only popular “artisnal” places still in business by his house. He was getting them out, his old counselor, Mackey, had already written great recommendations for the University of Denver.

“Almost done?” Kenny questioned, looking for a clean tee before his shift. Butters nodded, and stood up nervously. 

“What is it, B?” Kenny asked softly, pulling on a clean, soft white tee. Butters looked ashamed as he kicked his feet into the carpeting. 

“My dad said he didn’t want me home again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kenny said, zipping up his jacket and grabbing his clothes. “You’re home with me — I’ll bring back food from the kitchen tonight.”

He left a swift kiss on his partner’s bruised mouth and left, feeling Butters’ entire self relax into his touch. Kenny smiled as he closed the door. 

Kenny was at his truck when he heard a car slow down. Quickly, he turned, fearing it was Butters’ parents. A relieved sigh fell through his lungs when he saw it was Craig. 

“You need a ride?” Craig asked, out of character for him. They were friends, but not as close as Kenny was to Kyle, Stan — and Cartman, of course. They were similar in their quiet demeanors, but for different reasons. 

Kenny nodded and got in, and Craig handed him a cigarette, before lighting one himself. It was rare for Craig to smoke in the car, so Kenny knew something was up. 

“Is everything okay?” Kenny asked, taking a long drag of nicotine. Craig shrugged before answering with a question. 

“How did you tell your parents about Butters?”

“Well, it’s kinda like I said before,” Kenny replied, ashing out of the window. “Actions speak louder than words. But you know my parents; they’re too high to give a shit. They’re either fighting each other or fighting me — or freaking out at the wall if they’re paranoid and tweaked enough — sound like someone you know?”

Craig snorted, then laughed, and Kenny laughed with him, always glad he could lighten the mood. Craig made a left and they were at the restaurant, which Kenny had 10 minutes to clock in for. Usually he took it to memorize the restaurant specials, but he actually liked Craig. He was straightforward, and beneath the stoicism was a lot of thoughtful care.

“I’m so scared my dad’s gonna flip,” Craig admitted, already lighting another cigarette. Kenny sighed, feeling that pain, and feeling almost brotherly towards him. United in that fear — fear that they shouldn’t have to carry. 

“I know your dad, he’s a real man’s man — I know he expects that from you,” Kenny said evenly, looking straight out of the windshield. “But you know what else I know?”

“No, I don’t, that’s why I’m asking you!” Craig replied, in earnest, making Kenny bust out laughing. 

“Dude, your dad loves the shit out of you. And he’s always liked Tweek. Every sane parent knows it’s not worth losing a kid over. And your dad seems pretty down to earth.”

Craig smiled at him in earnest, then looked a little apologetic. “I’m sorry about your parents, Kenny. They’re really missing out.”

“I know,” Kenny smirked, causing another snort of laughter from Craig. He grabbed his backpack and Craig unlocked the door, tossing him a smoke for his break. Kenny smiled, before walking quickly to clock in on time. Maybe Craig felt that bond, too. 

Kenny felt a twinge of worry, and just hoped Craig and Tweek wouldn’t be broken by the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guess who didn’t edit? me! it’s 6:45 am! i am chaotic! thank you for all the love and don’t be shy to talk on the web <3 happy bday randy


	12. 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> craig is moody

The Tucker’s home was more balanced in energy; with Mr. Tweak allowing the home to be decorated by his wife, and Tweek not having as strict of parenting, it was less feminine — but hardly cold, or sterile. 

“Hi Mom, is Dad home?” Craig asked, hanging up his bomber jacket on the wooden hook by the doorway. Tricia, his now-preteen sister, ran up and hugged him, and Craig put an arm around her surprised — her usual greeting was casually flipping him off, glittery nail in the air, carelessly. She put a pink piece of paper in his hand and walked upstairs wordlessly.

He unfolded the note, written with care. It read, “You can do it!”, and was covered in small hearts. He smiled, but also cringed. God, this town was too small, having already reached the ears of his sister. 

He asked Tweek not to come to this — not because he didn’t want his boyfriend there, but because if something negative did occur, he didn’t need the blonde to see it. Tweek held his hand as he dropped him off at the coffee shop to work, almost fearful. As if it would be the last time. Craig kissed him, open mouthed and unafraid, and Tweek kissed back with an anxious fervor. It was all he needed to know that he could do this, though Tricia Tucker’s letter helped. 

“He’s in his office, dear,” Craig’s mom replied, before calling him down, one hand on the bannister. Craig stood up straight, bringing himself to his full height. They weren’t the most communicative family, but nonetheless, they loved each other. 

Thomas Tucker was a tall man, with curly orange-red hair. He had the body of a man who played football in college. His stance was strong, and could be considered intimidating, but hardly was. When Craig’s mom was around him, he was a bit of a sap. They were high school sweethearts and it showed. Craig wondered in that moment if he got his attitude from him, seeing as how he rarely went soft over anyone. 

“What’s all this about, Craig?” Thomas asked, as he motioned for them to all sit at the table. He looked tired from work, and his wife looked a worriedly at him. Last time they had ever had a sit-down talk, it was over Craig failing Spanish. Communication in another language was hard to impossible for him, after all. 

“Mom, Dad, I’m dating someone,” Craig said flatly, hands in his lap. They both smiled in response, and his dad patted his back, impressed. 

“And who’s the lucky girl!” Craig’s dad asked, beaming. Craig had played straight for a long time, but he didn’t feel like it anymore. He thought of Tweek underneath the covers in the basement and shuddered. No, he knew his sexuality. And he wasn’t ashamed. 

“Not a girl, dad,” Craig corrected, quickly watching their faces. They didn’t seem to change — except his dad, who slowly took his own hand and put it back down. “It’s Tweek Tweak.”

“Who is that, the spazzy one? The twitchy kid? He’s kinda girly — that track runner,” his father looked at his mother, face puzzled. It was a lot less comfortable than Tweek’s outburst, but Craig reminded himself he didn’t have a bloody mouth like Butters every other day. 

“Yeah,” Craig said dryly, then smiled. “That one.” His parents were staring at each other; something they did often, and something Craig didn’t understand until recently, doing it sometimes himself with Tweek. Wordless, but effective. His mom put a protective hand on Tweek’s shoulder for effect. His dad backed down. To Craig’s somewhat-surprise, he looked more confused than upset. 

“Are you ... being safe?” Mr. Tucker asked, grasping for words. “You should still use protection if you do that. Stuff.”

“Thomas,” Craig’s mom snapped, and Craig felt his jaw fly open. “That’s not the issue.”

“Well, I don’t know what to say! Is this a phase? I don’t know, we lived in a different time! I don’t know what to say,” Thomas was on the defensive, but in earnest. Then his shoulders dropped. He looked at his wife, then he looked at Craig. Craig looked back at him, expression almost pleading. A family photo was on the mantle. The ship bottle Craig finished for him was there, too. His father’s eyes softened. 

“Son, are you happy?”

“Yeah, Dad. I am.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“Yeah Dad, he is.”

“Are you good to him?”

“Of course, Dad! Jesus.”

“Okay. So, it’s fine then. And don’t ‘Jesus’ me. Can I go back upstairs now?”

“Yeah, Dad, you can.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this more, Thomas?” Craig’s mom looked at him, quizzical. Thomas stood up, unaffected. He put his hand back on Craig’s shoulder. 

“He’s happy and he’s dating, and he’s our son. I don’t have to get being gay, but I can get love. If he’s happy with it, then I’m not pushing anything.” Thomas had reached his quota of words for the day, and headed back up the stairs. 

Craig put his head on the table. Was his entire male side of the family damned to be socially inept? His inflection was still unreasonably flat, even if the words he were saying were fairly positive, given his conservative dad’s nature. 

His mom took his hat off, then started smoothing his black hair down, then behind his ears. “I like him a lot, Mom,” he said, head still resting on the table. “And I have for a long time.”

“I believe you, honey,” Craig’s mom soothed, and he picked his head back up. “Your dad’s not great with words, and I know we seem like old people to you ... but we’re not so old. We even had gay friends in our generation, too. Just not so, well — out, or forthcoming as you. And that was the most acceptance I’ve ever heard from you father,” Laura said, then pulled her son in close. Craig rested his head on her chest, feeling awkward and vulnerable. Why was it so hard? If this was a girl, his dad would have taken him and gotten him a beer. Why did it have to be so awkward and uncomfortable?

“Just give him time,” She said, holding her son. They hadn’t done this in a long time — maybe too long. “We love you, and he may not really understand it, but we love you, no matter what you are.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Craig croaked out, feeling her warmth. Her blonde hair fell over him as he sat there, too tall to be comfortable, but comforted nonetheless. 

“Tweek can come over whenever he wants,” she said, releasing Craig from her embrace. “I’m sure your dad and I can figure out the semantics of that together. So, try not to worry, okay, honey?”

“I won’t,” Craig lied, knowing his mom to be better with his dad about emotions than he could ever hope to be. They mostly had simple, straightforward conversations. Football and girls. Laura Tucker knew Craig could be his father’s son, so mute — but his little actions gave it away. And in that way, she knew how to love him, and her husband. But as his mother contemplated, so did Craig. Why didn’t his dad ever show him that side? 

Craig laid in his bed all night, confused. He felt like in some way, his dad was disappointed. Like he was angry with him. Like he had done something wrong — even though his dad had dismissed it as easily as ever. He felt ... angry. He even felt a little jealous of Tweek and his family, loving and giving towards Tweek and all of his tics and over-caffinated movements. Tweek Tweak was spoiled by his parents. Craig shook his head to take those thoughts out, knowing very well he spoiled Tweek, too. He reached for his phone. 

_hey, can u sneak out for a sec? need to see u. heading out now._

_did everything go ok? you can come in if u want ... ❤️_

_everything is fine, spazz. meet me at the end of the block._

_ok, craig. i’ll be there. ily_

Craig didn’t reply, he just grabbed his keys, downing a beer he snuck from his gym bag. He hated feeling so pent up like this, so frustrated. So unable to communicate without actions. His parents were talking lowly in their bedroom and Craig’s face heated up in some angst ridden rage. Tricia had music blasting. Everything was so fuckin’ easy for everyone but Craig. Why was that?! What the fuck was so wrong with his feelings — why were his parents so guarded and conservative? 

“I had a gay friend once,” he mimicked his mother’s voice as he peeled out of the driveway, only a hop and a jump away from Tweek’s house. Fucking Tweek, spoiled and sweet. He was annoyed and that second beer in his cup holder was empty. He wasn’t used to having his boring life interrupted by drama. It stressed him out. 

Tweek was at the end of the road, a big knitted scarf around his mouth. Craig slammed on the breaks and opened the passenger door. Tweek stepped in, almost geacefully, and shut the cold of winter out from behind them. Craig sort of waved a hello. 

“Craig, are you okay? What happened?!” he started, glancing at the empty bottle in Craig’s cup holder. Tweek could tell his moods. Craig ignored his questions and answered with his mouth, pressing to lead Tweek’s open, tongues catching by surprise. Craig leaned back his seat, and with some awkwardness pulled Tweek onto his lap, continuing to kiss him. He was mad, or frustrated. Tweek was scared and frustrated by it, too. 

“What. Is. Your. Issue?! Ack!” Tweek’s voice came through each kiss. Craig didn’t want to talk, but once he felt Tweek push hard against him, he faltered. Tweek’s face was flushed and hot, half hard and all the way aggravated. “Talk to me,” he demanded, fisting Craig’s jacket. 

“It’s so easy for you,” Craig spat, surprised at his tone. It carried a hint of venom. Tweek slunk back, hurt and a touch confused, waiting for his boyfriend to continue. “My parents acted like it was weird as fuck. They don’t give a shit, Tweek! They’re so wrapped up in their own crap. And Tricia’s school. Yeah, they said it was fine. But — fuck, I don’t know. My dad can’t talk for shit. I can’t read him. It’s pathetic. Your entire family loves you.” Craig sunk back in his seat, still frustrated. 

“Craig ...” Tweek whispered, sounding hurt for him and from him. “It’s not easy for anyone ... and you’re not the best with communication, either. But, fuck, like, I still love you! I’m so sorry, Craig. Your dad does love you.” Tweek kept encouraging his raven haired, now pouty lover. Tweek was breaking his anger down and Craig knew it. He was as good at it as he was calming Tweek. 

“You love me?” Craig snorted, fiddling with the doorknob. “It’s probably gonna wind up being my fucking fault your store got vandalized.”

“We can handle it,” Tweek pleaded, knowing Craig to have low moods sometimes— just as he got manic. “And yeah, I do love you. I always have.”

Craig didn’t respond, and Tweek didn’t need it. He kissed Craig’s unmoving face until a smile cracked. He put his chilly hands under Craig’s shirt until he moved away and giggled — literally, giggled — and huffed it out to a laugh as he kissed Tweek again, less aggressive. Sure, Craig could be an unmovable mountain sometimes, but even earthquakes and tectonic plates can crash and stir thing up. 

Tweek silently and talkatively understood him. He rested his head against Craig’s neck and Craig surrendered, stroking Tweek’s hair softly. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t. Tweek smelled fresh and sweet and he didn’t remember why he was angry anymore. Because for all his anger, passive flirting and teasing, it all came down to his sole interest in loving Tweek Tweak. His eyes were heavy lidded as he kept stroking his shaking boy’s hair, feeling the stress dissipate. He looked up suddenly as he noticed a familiar car, heading for the Tweak household. He pushed him closer, guarding Tweek from the headlights. 

“Wha ... What’s happening now, Craig, Jesus!” Craig held his strong arms against the blonde as he watched the car slow. The gears in his head started clicking. 

“Relax, honey. Don’t move.” Tweek went obediently still as the car moved. Craig, still cradling Tweek’s upper body, killed his engine. Tweek’s breathing began to increase, and Craig pressed him closer. 

“Just relax, Tweek. Everything is fine.”

It wasn’t, but Craig felt his anger redirecting as the door of the car opened silently. He knew he purpose. 

He was meant to love, protect, and care for Tweek, as always. And nothing else really mattered. Craig opened his door too, pushing Tweek to scramble into the back, hushing him. Craif took the empty bottle to his side and cracked it on the pavement, then looked back at a shaken Tweek. 

Nothing else mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i am slow and slow and very bad at editing, thank u for ur patience


	13. 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> danger

“Shut up, shut up — I’m thinking,” Tweek reassured his own screaming brain and pulled at his hair as he heard an unfamiliar voice followed by Craig’s. Fuck, hadn’t everything been good a week ago? He didn’t know what to do. His stomach hurt as he peeked out to see the broken bottle on the black pavement. Tweek looked up and at the stars, trying to breathe. “Craig, don’t touch Craig — ack, what the hell do I do?!”

In one fell swoop, he ran, and fast. The world felt like it was going too fast and and slow at one time. Craig was yelling, usually even-tempered, and Tweek was freaked beyond beflief. His parents could come out; they could see Craig with a smashed bottle. Everything in this second could in fact shatter his existence he was just beginning to nestle into tragedy. He could not handle the pressure. Every fear panned out on his mind and one thing was real; protect Craig. 

He didn’t know how to fight; really, he didn’t. But love sometimes makes people stronger, right? He felt his body dissociate as he moved smoothly between the two, and onto the taller possible aggressor. Both of them went with a loud whooshing sound as they fell on the ground, Tweek on top. Whoever this guy was, he was familiar in a sense that Tweek could only guess who his family might be. And it threatened him. It frightened and freaked him out. He started punching, hard, until a loud crack was exploding in his brain, leaving little sounds of buzzes in his ear and sparks of color in his mind, he felt his mouth fill with a metallic taste and was being pushed over, still kicking and clawing. 

“You idiot,” Tweek heard Craig’s monotone voice say, he heard him running over; worry and fear mangling in overatures. He blinked hard, until a swift kick to his stomach rendered him immobile. Tweek closed his eyes and ears, convinced this was the end. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” Craig was yelling, he heard a dog barking from Stan’s house. Fuck, if his parents came out right now, they were fucked. They were screwed beyond belief and would probably never screw again; not that they had the full experience. Fucking awful. What an awful thought. Tweek could almost vibrationally sense Craig’s anger. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“What the fuck to you, dude,” the voice called back, getting into his car. “And you know why the fuck I’m here, Tucker.” He sounded nervous, and all Tweek could taste, or even hear, was blood. He heard the squealing of tires as the unknown figure, car door slamming afterwards in haste. He cradled his head, unable to cry or move. He just kept spitting, trying to rid his mouth of the unsavory taste of his own blood — it made him queasy just to think about. But he did what he had to do, to keep them both safe. Believing that love conquers all is enough, right? Tweek reassured himself that fact over and over again on the freezing pavement.

“Fuck,” Craig said to the air, too harsh to breathe in. His voice faltered and he said it again. “Fuck.” Craig’s body was against him now, soothing as Craig removed Tweek’s hands from around his head. The blonde complied, and he felt himself being carried like a doll back to his car. “My parents,” Tweek squirmed, “Did they come out? Are you okay?”

“You’re worried about your parents and me,” Craig deadpanned, coaxing Tweek’s eyes open. “And you are covered in your own blood.” He was now back in the backseat of the car, laid out, bleeding onto Craig’s favorite old Apollo Thirteen tee. His voice was flat as what Tweek believed the earth to be, but his hands were soothing, rubbing circles on his neck and back. “Honey,” Craig faltered, holding the tee shirt steady on his nose and mouth. “I’m supposed to protect you, not the other way around. You’re fuckin’ short — are you aware of that?”

“Totally forgot, ack,” Tweek hurled back, freaking out at his own bloodspatter. Craig smiled, looking semi-satisfied. At least Tweek could manage to be sarcastic, always a good sign. Tweek made eye contact, never leaving Craig’s or flickering away. He needed to make it clear. “And by the way, relationships are a two way street, Craig. We protect each other. Got it?”

“Loud and clear,” Craig answered, pushing his hair from his face to kiss the blondes warm forehead. “You did just attack Thomas’s older brother though, if you’re wondering who you went all aggro on. I was about to do the same, but, I just thought you should know you literally took down a college sophomore. Like a chihuahua fighting a pitbull. Pretty kickass though, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t, and fuck. Holy shit,” Tweek squeaked, life flashing before his eyes, mixed with a bit of satisfaction at fucking up anyone in Thomas’s family. Tweek was allowed to be jealous, he was human! “We’re so screwed now, that kid was taller than you, ack,” Tweek rambled nasally, blood still flowing bright on the crisp white, down to the fated rocketship stencil. He took a beat then asked; “am I bleeding to death? Oh my God. Craig!”

“Calm down, Tweek, you’re fine; your nose isn’t even broken, believe me,” Craig replied lightly, brushing off his pants as he got in the car. “We gotta get outta here though, and I seriously don’t wanna go back to either of our parents’ houses. Are you cool with seeing Kenny and Butters?” Tweek made a weird ‘hngh’ sound in affirmation. Craig nodded in agreement as he turned on the car. 

“We gotta tell the dudes what happened — Kenny can at least help us get the story straight, and they’re pros in beat up aftercare.” Craig put on some soothing tunes, but his reflection in the mirror every two minutes panged Tweek; his eyes were filled with worry. “I can’t believe he did this to you,” Craig spoke aloud, fingers drumming hard against the steering wheel. His eyes told a completely different story. He was pissed, and he made his was quickly over to Kenny’s part of town. Craig looked back and rubbed Tweek’s thigh in absentminded comfort. He hated seeing his partner in pain. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Everything is going to be fine,” Tweek repeated softly, before slipping into a hazy adrenaline drained realm of unconsciousness. There was music playing and all the streetlights were hazy; he felt too worked up and out to keep awake.

Everything was going to be fine. Not because they wanted it to be, but because they needed it to be. Everything was going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short; I’m working on a less angsty more sexy lil creek moment and I’m sorry it’s been a few days — I promise to give you a long sweet beta’d gift of a chapter in a few days, just trying to work on plots and timelines!!! (: I have other works in the fandom too if you’re bored!! Sending all my love and support during these times and hoping you can feel it


	14. 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> u got fucked up!

“Damn. You got fucked up,” Kenny said mildly, as both of them snuck in through his first floor window. Craig helped Tweek; once the initial shock wore off, he was hurting. Butters was on site immediately, looking over Tweek. “That’s one heck of a nosebleed — and a split lip, too. Poor Tweek,” Butters sympathized, grabbing some gauze. Craig brushed his hair out of his face as Butters nursed his swollen lip. 

Tweek whined and Craig held his hand while Butters fussed over him, Kenny sitting quietly on the edge of the bed. “Does Butters, like, live here now or something?” Craig asked, trying to move the conversation and hopefully distract an anxious Tweek. Kenny shrugged and smiled, but there was malice in his voice. “I told his parents if they didn’t stop beating him, I had people who would beat the shit out of them. Leo’s a free range baby now, home to roost,” Kenny sounded proud and a little evil, and Butters blushed furiously as he put a tube of wrapping up Tweeks nose, causing him to groan. 

“I go to Stan and Kyle’s sometimes, too,” Butters said primly, fixing up Tweek and putting his first aid kit — usually reserved for Kenny’s affinity for fights — back under his bed. Kenny rolled his eyes, and motioned for Butters to sit with him. The four boys sat, two against the wall and two on the bed, not speaking for a moment. “Did you see who did it?” Kenny questioned, eyeing the two of them. “I mean, Ken, we know! Well, we, uh, we did some research. We wanted to show the Tweaks with a letter and photos anonymously and stuff,” Butters interjected, quickly silenced by a look from Kenny. 

“You guys knew it was Thomas’s brother? Since when?” Craig asked incredulously, lilt of anger in his even voice. Tweek still said nothing, holding Craig in a daze. “Dude, Craig, chill. We didn’t want to get mixed up in this shit at all, but I can give you the photos. You know Thomas’s brother has beef with mine.” Kenny looked at Craig, as if sizing up his impenetrable layer of monotony. He let his shoulders fall in understanding; frankly, he didn’t want Kenny involved in more shit either, on top of applying to schools and protecting his beaten boyfriend. Kenny looked relieved that there wasn’t any anger in Craig’s stance, and handed him the printer photos and letter. 

As Craig carefully looked over the paper, Tweek suddenly snapped into reality. “Ah, shit, I need to text my parents, holy fuck they probably think I’m dead—“ Tweek looked for his phone, panicked. Craig handed him his phone as he looked over the printed snapchats, seeing an infuriated ghost figure of his ex’s older brother while they had taken shots at Cartman’s party. 

His stomach took a turn but he kept calm, replying to Tweek while absentmindedly rubbing circles into his knotted back. “Already texted your parents, Tweek. I said I took you by Stark’s pond and you fell. Did the same thing off your phone. They asked if you were okay, and I said you were fine and you’re staying at mine,” Craig was nonchalant, and Tweek immediately relaxed, looking over the texts. 

“You guys need to crash here?” Kenny offered, looking around his room. “I think we actually have extra blankets and a duvet from Butters’ house.” Tweek looked up at Craig for confirmation, and Craig sure as hell didn’t want to go home. “Yeah dude, if it’s cool with you we’ll crash here.” Kenny got up and went into his closet. 

Butters clapped his hands excitedly. “It’s like a slumber party!” Butters went to help Kenny pull out the blankets, happy and domestic. It was only then that Craig realized that although Butters was way too feminine to be his type, he was really fresh and pretty. Kenny had found his pornstar and housewife he had always wanted, and even though they had only recently become closer, Craig was happy for them. He held Tweek a little tighter, feeling pride for them, too. For all of the bullshit, he had a scrappy, hot mess of a boyfriend, and it balanced him out. 

Kenny threw his extra pillow down; it wasn’t much, but Kenny was a giver. “Don’t sound so excited, we were supposed to be up all night together, too,” Kenny said brazenly, beckoning him over. Tweek looked up at Craig and blushed hard, ears a fiery red. “Oh Jesus, guys. Sorry to interrupt!” Butters laughed in response, giving him a push before crawling into bed with Kenny, nestled on his neck. Craig sat down on their makeshift floor bed, wishing that was them with an evening plan beyond violence. He looked at his sweetheart’s split lip with a hint of guilt as they laid together. “Don’t worry right now,” Kenny said, fixing his pillow for him and Butters to share, “Let’s figure out a game plan tomorrow.” Craig agreed with silence, laying down on the ground beneath them, veiled by a sheet. 

Kenny and Butters were close to asleep before Tweek put his hands up Craig’s shirt, almost questioning with his fingers. Craig went still then relaxed, before leaning over and tenderly kissing Tweek’s bruising lips; lightly and with care. Butterfly kisses. The night was still in the small town and all of Craig’s affinities for a non stressful life were essentially gone. His boring, unchaotic style was changed by the whirlwind of thunder that was Tweek, but it wasn’t broken. And they were maybe bruised, but hardly broken. In fact, it felt more bonded than ever. 

Things would settle down, drama has a tendency to move, and it would pass. Tweek, in deep, soft breaths seemed to want that too. His stick legs went over Craig as he hovered over Tweek and Craig could see his smile glowing like stars in the dark. He kissed the teeth and Tweek gave a soft laugh in the absurdity of the situation; on the floor of Kenny’s worn carpet with bruises from a shitty ex, this was still better than the pining they had before all of this. Love, actualized, was better than love in a backburner. 

Craig skimmed his jawline with his knuckles and felt his warmth of his skin underneath, allowing it to burn him up. He loved the way his overtly anxious Tweek became a soft, soothed blonde underneath and next to him. He loved his mornings and his nights. Everyone needs someone to balance them, and Tweek was his beam to balance on. Craig kissed his forehead and his cheeks, kissed his eyes closed. Just to feel his arms around his chest caused him to heat up. 

“I love you, Craig Tucker,” Tweek whispered into the deep of the dark, the smoothness of his voice in surprising confidence. Craig’s throat hitched as he planted kisses from his ears to his throat, lips feeling his slow and steady pulse. It was as beautiful as a fever dream. Craig’s mouth felt dry and he knew his brain was going haywire but he cupped Tweek’s warm cheeks and hoped his cheeks weren’t full hilt blushing. “I love you too, Tweek,” he whispered, both eyes reflecting the coolness of the Colorado mountains, trimmed with snow. Tweek giggled, then covered his mouth, wincing a little. “I know, Craig. I know.”

“Hey,” Kenny’s voice cut through the thick of the night and both blushed hard as they sat up. “I love you both, now shut the fuck up and go to bed.” Tweek and Craig stifled their laughter into each others’ necks as they laid back down on the sheets. They held each other with care, hands clasped and interlocked in mild embarrassment. 

“I love everyone here!” Butters’ voice exclaimed, half asleep and hair shining nearly white in by the moon as he sat up. Everyone laughed, tired and near to drunk, and Craig heard Kenny push him into the bed. Tweek felt warm and flush with sleep as he gave a soft laugh.

“Shut up and sleep, B,” Kenny said, followed by a warm kiss that could be heard by all. The two boys on the floor remained blushing as they heard the soft pop of lips, and Craig held Tweek tighter, feeling dedicated. A soft huff in the bed was heard as the two dozed off. “I love you, Butters,” Kenny whispered hoarsely, voice raw and tired, but full of soft emotion— in no tone like Craig had ever heard Kenny speak. Craig let out another laugh, Tweek for the first time asleep before him on his chest. 

“Fuck off, Tucker.”

“I love you too, dude.”

The cool of the night passed and Craig fell asleep with sound conviction, arms over Tweek’s midsection. Tomorrow would come, and everything would solve itself. South Park laid still and safe as sleep fell over all four of the boys, each fighting for their love in their own way. Tomorrow would come with promise, and the two boys were quelled. Tomorrow always comes with new surprises, and love can conquer anything; even older brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please accept my love and affection for u i hope this is okay


	15. 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wake up and go to sleep. if u sleep on kenny’s floor, you’re gonna have a bad time!

The sky had turned heavy with rain, turning the groind into a slippery mush as the boys snuck out, heads still thick with sleep. Craig looked gingerly at Tweek’s face and grabbed the letter from Kenny, still half asleep as Butters wrapped his body around him, lips parted in peaceful sleep. If only they could stay like this, but the two on the floor were feeling the ache of hardwood and broken carpeting under their spine.

“All good?” Kenny asked hoarsely, only sitting up slightly as not to wake up a sleeing Butters. Craig studied the letter and the printed screenshots with a heaviness in his heart; this could have been prevented. 

“Yeah, thanks, man — I gotta get Tweek home. His parents should know about this,” Craig stuffed the letter in the back of his jeans and stretched his legs out. Butters roused slowly, rubbing his eyes as they refocused on the rain beating on the window. The sky looked beautifully ominous. 

“Alright, dude. Just be careful getting out. Shit looks hectic out there,” Kenny looked down at the muddy snow in the street, then turned his attention back to Butters. “Guess we’re stuck inside today, Leo,” he grinned, and pushed him back down to sleep, the sun barely trickling light as it tried to rise past the pillowing grey sky. Craig studied how naturally they moved and wished he wasn’t as nervous to show himself, like Kenny. Perhaps he did, in less obvious ways. He took mental note still, and looked at a somewhat peaceful sleeper by him. 

“Hey,” Craig whispered, shaking Tweek awake — something he wasn’t used to doing, since Tweek rarely ever got a good night’s rest. He wondered guilty if that was on him. Tweek rubbed open his eyes, smiling then wincing at his brunette boyfriend; his lip had swollen up in his sleep. Craig, without much thought, pulled him into a hug, feeling Tweek’s anxiety as he held his shaking hands. 

“Hey Tweek,” Craig repeated, still soft. Tweek made a sound like a groan. “Hey Craig,” Tweek responded with a blush Craig could feel, head on his chest as he sat on Kenny’s bedroom floor. They sat like that for a moment, until Tweek became lax in his arms. Being stoic had a plus side in the sense that is soothed the shit out of Tweek. Craig and Tweek folded the comforter, and Craig playfully threw the pillow the two had shared at Kenny and Butters, both half asleep to the sound of the frigid Colorado rain. 

Kenny, Craig and Tweek opened the window, laced with icicles — which freaked the hell out of Tweek — and Butters grabbed some gauze for Tweek to take home. “You’re gonna be alright?” Kenny asked, as the two of them walked towards the car. The taller brunette gave him the finger. “Always good,” Craig said easily, and pulled Tweek closer. 

“Always, agh, fuck. Always good. Always.”

Craig pulled into the Tweak household with the letter in his back pocket. He fumbled to know when to share it, but for the moment, it was unknown the who’s and why’s and how’s — at least, to adults, who are great at not understanding. His dad called and he let it go to voicemail, texting back wearily “I am fine”.

The Tweaks fretted over their son and looked at each other worriedly, but with Craig looking kind and open and a good six inches on Tweek, they relented on following through with questions; perhaps chalking it up to their new situation. “Mr. Tweak, Mrs. Tweak,” Craig started, after they were curiously and openly questioned, “Tweek has to sleep, and I don’t want to be home right now. Can I crash for a bit?”

They were, of course, happy for Tweek to have the company — regardless of circumstance — and eventually excused them and their aching backs from Kenny’s bedroom floor. Wearily, they both went upstairs, Craig silently moving all the paper cups of week old coffee into the trash before pulling the blinds shut. It was a little like Kenny and Butters’ experience, but in a parallel universe. 

Tweek was already in boxers and an oversized tee from Stan’s dad, Randy, back when he made a killing off his weed farm. Craig wasn’t particularly nostalgic, but it threw him back. When they were kids, the only thing that kept them apart were a few stops on the bus. Now, it seemed like the world was falling apart at the seams. Only the feeling of Craig’s hand through Tweek’s hair was keeping him sane — and the drumming of the rain turned to hail. 

“You think this is because of you, but it isn’t, okay?” Tweek said, voice soft and full of sleep. He moved to grab an old hoodie at the edge of his bed, and tossed it over to Craig, eyes focusing and defocusing as he admired Craig’s physique. He felt Tweek’s soft stare and took his time — he couldn’t help it. He snuggled him back into the blankets and continued stroking Tweek’s wild blonde hair. “C’mon, Craig, don’t blame yourself.”

“I wanna keep you safe, honey,” Craig nearly whispered, voice hoarse and as always, a touch nasally. “Safe, and happy. If I could do just those two things, I would be so happy. And now look. You have a split lip and almost broke your nose. I think that’s a little bit on me.”

Craig wanted to continue. He wanted to rationalize why he was at fault, what was wrong with him, and why he was fucking up as a boyfriend. But Tweek knew him too well, and easily slapped his shoulder. “Don’t use that lame shit on me, Tucker. I’m the badass who got this nose. Stop taking responsibility for me being a hero, and stop blaming yourself for other people’s bullshit.”

Tweek kissed him, soft and hesitant, while clutching both of his hands to his partners’. “Because we both know it’s totally bullshit,” Tweek added, playing with the strings of Craig’s borrowed hoodie. The hail bounced quietly off of the windowpane, making a coma inducing soundscape over the quiet mountain town. 

“The only thing that is totally bullshit is you being a hero,” Craig said mildly, eyes already struggling to stay open as Tweek’s nimble fingers made their way up his spine and splayed over his chest from under his hoodie. 

Tweek looked at him, scandalized. “I got a bloody nose and chilled out some asshole twice my size. Is that not superhero material?”

“Not really,” Craig practically slurred, the feeling of Tweek’s warm flesh against his dulling his comebacks. “Unless you made this weather just for me to stay at your house for a post-floor nap, nothing you did was ‘super’; it was improv.”

Tweek huffed out a laugh into Craig’s neck as they both fell asleep, victim to a nap and the maddeningly peaceful sound of hail. “If I could always have you with me, I’d take that superpower any day.”

Craig set his alarm for three hours, so he could eventually find his way back home. He studied his boyfriend’s battle scars, less puffy after a bag of frozen peas from Richard Tweak. He admired his slender shoulders and spindly fingers as Tweek could finally rest easy in his own bed. His nose was slightly upturned, like a bunny slope, and Craig kissed it, feeling Tweek’s nose wrinkle in fake disgust. 

“You don’t need a power, honey,” Craig said finally, as Tweek’s breathing slowed to minimal. Maybe the kid was having coffee withdrawals. Craig held him close as he saw another voicemail from his dad pop up on his phone. He held Tweek closer, if it was possible.

”You’ll always have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry for the delay — i hope you’re all being safe, wherever you are. this baby is a five chapters shy of being wrapped, so consider this my slow burn to procrastinate ending it 🥺. this is my first south park fic, and i appreciate all of the love. so much. be safe, be smart, stay apart!


	16. hi it’s almost ... finished ... head on empty

HI I HAVENT FORGOTTEN THIS NOR WILL I NOT GIVE U A GOOD ENDING YOU DESERVE BC I CANT STAND (but understand) WHEN I DONT GET AN ENDING. ITS COMING BABY AND IT WILL B GOOD. OK LOVE U BYE EXPECT AN UPDATE THIS WEEK im a bad writer sometimes i make mistakes and have to do beta’ing and im an adult w stupid responsibilities. booooooo. but i just wrote the endings, the good fill in the blanks loving chapters are coming!!! i’ll delete this once it’s up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im SORRY i work really hard blehhhbhbhhjsjejjdjd


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